


Emerald and Scarlet

by SincerelyGallifrey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Disaster Harry Potter, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley is a Queen, Harry Potter Being an Idiot, Harry Potter Has Issues, Harry Potter Has PTSD, Harry Potter Has an Eating Disorder, Hermione is the only one with Brain cells, Hogwarts Eighth Year, I hate Dumbledore, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, JK Rowling is a TERF, M/M, Minerva McGonagall is So Done, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, i hate Snape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29797356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SincerelyGallifrey/pseuds/SincerelyGallifrey
Summary: The war is over. Lord Voldemort defeated, the 7th years have been invited back to repeat their final year at Hogwarts school. Harry, convinced by his best friend Hermione Granger begrudgingly returns as well. When faced with having to live in close proximity to his childhood rival Draco Malfoy, Harry will have to learn things about himself as well as the blonde haired boy that he never wanted to find out.WARNINGS - This story revolves heavily around a major character with an eating disorder. If this will make you uncomfortable, please don't read. The story also contains another major character discussing their self-harm scars, if this will make you uncomfortable, again, please don't read.Copyright- I do not own the characters or setting of this novel, the plot, however, is of my own original invention
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Justin Finch-Fletchley/Ernie Macmillan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	1. Summer at the Burrow

Harry stared up at the wooden ceiling of his best friend's bedroom at the Burrow. The sun was just beginning to peek through the windows of the Weasley's family home but Harry hadn't slept.

If he doesn't sleep, the nightmares don't come.

After the battle of Hogwarts, Harry, though glad he had finally rid the world of Lord Voldemort, he couldn't help the overwhelming darkness of the guilt and trauma.

The Dursley's hadn't taken Harry to the beach much during his childhood but one of the times they did begrudgingly allow him to play in the sand with his cousin, the waves had been very powerful.

That was the best way Harry could articulate his feelings. That moment when a wave has just swallowed you and it's throwing you around, not allowing you to come up for a breath. That's how Harry felt constantly.

It was all his fault, if it wasn't for him, so many people would still be alive right now, his own parents included. It wasn't fair that Harry had come out the other side of the war, when so many better witches and wizards did not. 

"Oh, Harry, we must feed you up, dear, you're getting awfully thin," Mrs Weasley smothered him as he and Ron came down for breakfast a few hours later. Harry smiled weakly. He had lost the ability to care for himself barely a week after the war ended. Mrs Weasley had always given him big portions of all her meals but now even more so. Harry only felt a tiny pang of guilt as he sneakily dropped some under the table for Crookshanks to gobble up. 

In a world of powerlessness, what he ate was one of the only things he could control. The hypnotic ache of hunger had also become rewarding to him, a punishment for being for being alive, taking up space in the world where so many people who had given there lives to him should be. 

Hermione had joined the little family at the Burrow as her parents were still in Australia, she was going to reset their memories once they returned. Crookshanks, the notoriously intelligent cat had found its way to the burrow around January while the trio was off finding Horcruxes.

After breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all went upstairs to Ron's room. Hermione and Ron did most of the talking, their hands intertwined and Harry could visibly see them holding back their affections for his comfort which he appreciated but he still felt like a third wheel. His own girlfriend was somewhere in the house, but the two had talked sparingly since the battle, Harry finding her caring blue eyes to painful to bear, and her comforting words too sickly sweet to be deserved. 

"It'll be weird having a normal year, won't it Harry," Ron addressed him, probably just to make his friend feel a little less left out.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all taken the offer extended to all seventh years who want to repeat their final year. At first, Harry and Ron didn't want to go but Hermione talked them both into it. Ron had only taken a 'pretty please' and a kiss on the cheek to write up a letter to Hogwarts, while Harry wanted to be anywhere but those haunted halls. It would be like his first year all over again. People pointing and staring at the boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But he had reasoned it would be better to be with his two best friends than sulking around the Burrow till he found his own flat. He had no intention of returning to Grimmauld place. 

After lunch, in which Harry half-heartedly ate an apple he decided to take a walk around the garden by himself, out in the fresh summer air. Not two minutes into his stroll, the bustling ginger-haired Weasley sister came bounding up to him.

"How have you been, Harry? I haven't seen you all day, so sorry about that." Her smile was too bright, her eyes too full of hope.

Over the summer Harry's affections toward Ginny had almost been extinguished. Yes, she was very pretty, and she was always there with a mug of hot chocolate for him. His overwhelming guilt and depression had overshadowed that.

"I've been better," Harry let out a dry chuckle. "Ginny, I've been thinking-"

"All that's happened has put a lot of stress on you and you really don't need a relationship right now?" She said incredibly fast. Harry stopped and studied her face. It wasn't upset or angry, it was concerned.

"Something like that," Harry's voice was small and shaky.

"It's fine, I figured as much lately based on you avoiding me most of the summer," she sighed, placing both her hands on Harry's upper arms. "I'll be here for you always and if you ever want to try again, I'll be more than happy, okay?" She smiled. Harry nodded.

He found himself back inside an hour later, walking up the stairs to Ron's bedroom, looking at his feet the whole way up. He bumped into someone and the contents of a box they were holding crashed into the floor.

"Sorry about that Harry, wasn't looking where I was going." Harry's gut turned and he looked up to see the one face in the Weasley family he felt the most guilty about. George Weasley used his wand to collect the contents of the box and lift it back up into his arms. Harry could see him open his mouth to say something but he dashed past him before he could say anything.

Every time he saw George's face his stomach twisted and hot bile creeped up his throat. It is all his fault Fred had died. Fighting in his stupid battle Fred Weasley had lost his life in the halls of Hogwarts no more than a few months ago battling a Death Eater just as so many others had. Looking at George was like staring a ghost in the face, a ghost that he had caused. 

Harry steadied himself before turning the door handle of Ron's room to step inside.

* * *

Diagon Ally was a welcome change of pace for Harry. As he bought his seventh-year schoolbooks and supplies he had gotten rid of the previous year, he looked in all the windows of the shops and cast a mournful glance at the Firebolt in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies as he remembered his own broom. He doesn't know where it ended up, broken most likely - no more than splinters and twigs. Maybe he'd be able to use Ron's broom to fly around the pitch sometimes. He doubted he will play Quidditch this year, getting out of bed each day to laze around the Burrow was hard enough, he wasn't sure how well he could handle Quidditch.

He, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all ate ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour and Harry couldn't help but appreciate how the cold ice cream filled his insides with warmth, a small act of normalcy despite being trapped inside his chaotic mind. 

They arrive back at the Burrow too soon but Harry knows it would only get worse tomorrow as they leave for Hogwarts.

* * *

"I wonder who else is going back to Hogwarts," Hermione said while sorting Harry, Ron, and her school supplies again.

"Probably all the Ravenclaws," Ron flicked his wand to make a ball of paper bounce above his head while he lay on his bed. "Knowing Neville's grandma, he'll be coming back too."

"I don't think any of the Slytherins will be brave enough to show up," Hermione scoffed. Harry propped himself up on his elbows upon hearing this.

"You know, we never got a thank you from Goyle and Malfoy," Harry said as he ran a hand through his dark hair.

"You expect one from Malfoy?" Ron sniggered. "The ungrateful git would rather eat a bucket of Flobberworms before he tarnishes his pride."

"He's got a point," Hermione looked at Harry worriedly. "But anyway, it will be nice to be back at Hogwarts without any looming threat over Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes. He still didn't want to go back. He knew what would happen when he walks those halls, when he sleeps in that four-poster bed. The memories will flood back stronger and faster than they already have been. The nightmares will seep into his conscious mind.

For the first time in the last eight years of Harry's life, he really didn't want to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	2. Hogwarts Restored

Harry slumped down onto the bench seat of their compartment, Hermione and Ron still waving out the window to Mr and Mrs Weasley getting smaller and smaller in the distance. Harry watched as Ginny entered the compartment to ask Ron for some money for when the trolley lady does her rounds later. Harry ended up throwing a galleon at her when she started to argue with her older brother, this seemed to satisfy her and she headed off to her friends.

"It's going to be weird not having to deal some life threatening nonsense this year," Ron mused earning him a glare from his girlfriend for his bad grammar. Harry just grunted in reply. He hadn't slept well last night, leaving him drowsy and with a dull headache. Images of the crumbling and broken walls of Hogwarts swamped his mind, the lifeless bodies of those who fell victim to his own failings strewn amongst the debris. Ron's bedroom wall was a much preferred sight to his nightmares.

The three didn't say much during the trip. Neville Longbottom showed up at their compartment and caught up with them for a little while and Luna Lovegood tagged along too. Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley said hello hand in hand which made Ron raise his eyebrows, earning a jab in the side from Hermione. By the time the train screamed to a halt they had met seven other eighth years returning to retake their N.E.W.T year.

As soon as Harry stepped onto the platform, a conflicting wave of emotion crashed down onto him. The evening was clear, in the distance the Hogwarts castle was visible and standing proudly against the horizon. Hogwarts was the only place Harry had ever felt at home for his entire life, he had found his first friends there, he had found things that he was good at there. But now, it was the site where so many people had died to make sure that he didn't. He swallowed the lump in his throat and quickly tore his eyes away from it. 

"Firs' years over here, come on don't be shy," the familiar voice made Harry's head snap up and a smile ghost over his lips as his eyes landed on the tall figure of Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper at Hogwarts. Hagrid saw the three students and gave them a wave before going beck to rounding up all the frightened first years.

"There's quite a few of them this year," Hermione observed as they headed toward the carriages with the other students.

"I guess some people didn't want their kids going to school with Snape running the place," Ron shrugged his shoulders, watching as they all gawped up at Hagrid and headed in the opposite direction to the boats.

As expected both Ron and Hermione jump back (with a small squeal on Ron's side) as the black leathery Thestrals came into view. Harry heard Hermione muttering under her breath about how fascinating they were but he chose to ignore her.

The trio managed to ride up to the castle in their own carriage. Ron kept craning his neck out of the windows to look at the Thestrals in awe. "Wicked!" He remarked. 

The Great Hall had been returned to its former glory over the summer. The night sky projected on the ceiling was a brilliant deep blue, decorated with all the shimmering stars in the heavens. The floating candles swayed gently out of reach as mischievous students tried to jump up and touch them. The four house tables stood proudly with individual coloured table runners continuing down the impossibly long tables.

The only difference Harry noticed as he took a seat, was under each of the house banners adorning the stone wall from which they entered the hall was four gold plaques underneath each of the house tapestries and Harry didn't need to look for very long to guess what they were for. The writing etched into each of them listed the students who gave their lives in the final battle. Harry wrenched his eyes down to stare at the wood table beneath him, forcing air into his lungs steadily despite their persistent rattling.

 _"You caused this, you know_ ," a voice inside his head growled. Harry couldn't help himself but to look back up at the plaques out of morbid curiousity. He noticed that under the Slytherin banner only one name was etched into the gold plaque, but from across the hall, he couldn't make out what it was. It turned out a lot of students were observing the newest addition to the Great Hall as it took Professor McGonagall three attempts of clearing out her throat to get everybody's attention.

"Welcome students to what hopefully will be a more calm academic year," she said with a weak smile, evidently trying to lighten the mood. "We have repaired all the damaged to the building around us but it will take much more time and patience to repair the damage in our hearts. But now we enter a new year, let's get on with the sorting." McGonagall clapped and the ornate doors swung open again and a group of eleven-year-olds led by Professor Sprout entered the hall walking between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.

As usual, the sorting hat sung it's song, this one about new beginnings and friendship, and sorts the first years into the four houses. Harry's stomach gave a familiar grumble reminding him that he had passed up the sweets on the train and hadn't eaten anything since that slice of toast this morning. 

"Before we start our feast, there are a couple of announcements I would like to address." Groans echoed across the hall from the tired and hungry students. "Hogsmeade visits have been reopened as all third years and above will know," Harry recalled with his seventh-year book list came a familiar permission slip for the wizard only town that Mrs Weasley signed for him. "And as most of you know, several students that should have sat their N.E.W.Ts last year have returned so we have an excess of students. So, in our reconstruction, we have a new wing where we have a new common room and dormitories where they will all be staying."

This caused some murmurs across the hall. Harry felt conflicted, on one hand he knew that reuniting with his old dormitory would bring a comfortingly sense of nostalgia, while also bringing back hoards of unsavoury memories to the front of his mind. Ron and Hermione shared looks with the other eighth years around them.

"And lastly, this year will be focused on inter house relationships. Forming bonds with people outside your house can strengthen our school and your personal lives." Ron let out an over exaggerated groan

"We better not have to become best mates with the Slytherins," he dropped his forehead onto the table.

"She has a point, you know," Hermione lectured.

McGonagall finished her speech and with a flourish of her hand, the golden plates in front of them filled with food and the silver goblets filled with water and pumpkin juice. They tuck in, Even Harry's mouth watered at the sight of the feast laid before them. He picked up a jacket potato and some steamed vegetables and picked at them gingerly, only eating just enough to get his stomach to shut up. Hermione tapped him on the shoulder and pointed up to the staff table. Next to Professor Slughorn sat a young witch with black hair coming down to her collarbones deep in conversation with the potions master.

"I guess that's this year's defence teacher," Hermione tried to get Ron to stop eating for a few seconds to see her.

"Do you reckon she's gonna last?" Neville asked, sitting on Hermione's other side. Harry watched the exchange between the professors, she seemed familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Who knows? The job might still be jinxed," Ron said with sauce dripping down his chin.

"Charming," Hermione rolled her eyes at her boyfriend.

Soon, the stomachs of the students were stuffed and McGonagall stepped up to the podium once more.

"Sleep well everyone, and wake up nice and early for classes tomorrow. Prefects, come get your passwords from me and lead your houses to the common rooms, eighth years, stay behind please."

Harry watched sullenly as the younger Gryffindor students headed off to the warm, cosy common room and dorms Harry had fallen in love with. The hall emptied and now there were only four students left at the scarlet and gold table.

"Come on now you lot, let's get you settled in," McGonagall strode up the hall and the four got to their feet to follow the Headmistress. As they all left the hall no one looked to the back of the pack to see the scrawny boy following them at a distance.

Harry noticed the stone wall of the corridor abruptly turn from dusty and dark grey to a clean and lighter tone. This must be the new wing. It was decorated much like the rest of the castle with paintings and statues lining the walls and pillars on the corners. The group climbed a flight of stairs and came to a landing with a beautiful set of doors, dark wood with black iron hinges and ornate patterns reaching across the door.

" _Initium novum_ ," McGonagall said loudly so they can all hear. The metal patterns came to life and retreat back into the hinges letting the doors swing open.

Harry couldn't fight the smile on his face as he saw the common room. It was large and homey, a fireplace crackled against the far wall and there was a staircase either side of it. Around the room there were couches and chairs in the middle and desks and bookshelves against the walls. They entered, marvelling at the size of it for their small number.

"Girls on the left and boys on the right. Sleep tight everybody," McGonagall smiled before leaving.

Ron and Harry headed up the stairs first and found themselves in a long rectangular room with nine beds lined up on the opposite walls, four on one side, five on the other. On the walls behind each bed was an ornate animal, the house mascot, with a name underneath each. Ron and Harry found their beds next to each other, close the far side of the room on the left side with their trunks at the end of their beds. On the stone wall behind them, there was an image of a lion reared up on its hind legs composed of different shades of red metal with the words ' _POTTER_ ' and ' _WEASLEY_ ' respectively in a delicate cursive print. Harry looked to the bed beside his, the one closest to the wall. He tilted his head to see the name and his face turned white as his eyes landed on the jade snake, coiled around itself with its head held high and the cursive name printed beneath it ' _MALFOY'_.


	3. The Missing Malfoy

Harry slept with the curtains drawn around his bed, painfully aware of the boy lying on his right. The entire cohort of the eighth year boys watched as Malfoy walked in almost as soon as Harry had seen who the bed had belonged to. No one said a word as the blonde haired traitor walked down the room to his bed. 

One thing Harry noticed was the Slytherin prince no longer had his head held high and a smug grin on his face. In fact, his shoulders were slumped, making him appear smaller than he was, dark purple rings hung beneath his eyes, twisting his face into a garish and hollow facade. He didn't even spit a poison-laced 'Potter' in Harry's direction as he passed. He had just sat down, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the room, and with a lazy flick of his wand, drew his deep green curtains around the bed. 

Ron had remarked (rather loudly) that his change in demeanour was probably because his Daddy was locked up in Azkaban and his Mother on house arrest. This made many of the other boys laugh. Harry stayed silent, struggling to tear his eyes away from the velvety curtains of the four poster, as if his eyes could bore through the fabric. He looked even worse than he had last time he had seen the boy, at least then he had been wearing a sharp suit and tie in preparation for trial.

The boys went about shuffling around, taking turns in the ensuite and getting ready for sleep. Harry laid his head back on his pillow, staring up at the blurry canopy above as his glasses sat on the nightstand. His mind raced with thoughts as it so often did. He was hyperaware of the presence of Draco Malfoy, lying in the bed mere feet from his sign who hadn't made even a sound since his arrival. Harry didn't know what to think. Malfoy was a Death Eater, pledged to the cause of his death and the oppression of Muggles, yet, he seemed so defeated, so ashamed. He clamped his eyes shut and fell into a disturbed sleep riddled with the nightmares he was now painfully used to. 

* * *

Harry only nibbled one slice of marmite toast and half an apple at breakfast which Hermione scolded him for wasting. First up, they had transfiguration which Harry wasn't too excited for but at least he didn't have to bear the sight of Malfoy until last period according to their new timetable.

The seventh and eighth year Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students headed down to the Transfiguration corridor to be greeted by a young witch with dirty blonde hair twisted up into a messy bun. She ushered them inside and Harry took his seat with Ron on his left and Hermione to his right. 

"Good morning everyone," she said enthusiastically. "Welcome to your second year of N.E.W.T transfiguration, My name is Professor Larrowreed." The class didn't respond, still amazed at how upbeat she seemed to be at eight o'clock in the morning. "You must have been expected Professor McGonagall but sadly she can not join us as she is far too busy with her duties as Headmistress so you're stuck with me." Ron raised his eyebrow at Harry. This professor didn't seem all there, she reminded them of another blonde hair ditz across the room in a blue scarf and reading the Quibbler under her desk. 

The class soon got to work reading through the theory of conjuring spells and Hermione, who had read the chapter over the summer, began to conjure feathers out of thin air, succeeding on her third try. 

"It's awful Hermione," Ron groaned as Professor Larrowreed retreated behind her desk to read some novel that looked old and worn, so Ron and Harry took the opportunity to tell Hermione about their sleeping arrangements. "The git has to sleep right next to us." 

"Harry, you said there was something off about him," Hermione set down a brown feather with white speckles on it. "Maybe the war has brought his ego down." 

"Still a git," Ron grumbled. Harry thought back to that morning. He had gotten out of bed early to avoid getting changed with the other boys but Malfoy seemed to have had the same idea. They had stared at each other for a few seconds before Malfoy left for the common room, leaving Harry to sit on his bed to wait for the rest of them to wake up. 

"Without his father to run off to, I bet he's less likely to be picking fights with anyone," Harry added halfheartedly. 

The rest of the day passed slowly. A clear sky made their walk down to the greenhouses after lunch quite pleasant but later in the afternoon, Harry dragged his feet as he walked down to the dungeons. Seeing Malfoy was the last thing he wanted to do. The conflicting hatred and pity tore him apart whenever his mind conjured up the sunken, silver eyes of the Slytherin. He followed Ron and Hermione through the doors of the N.E.W.T dungeon but he couldn't see Malfoy anywhere. 

"It's not like Malfoy to skip a class he excels at," said Hermione with a puzzled face. 

"Probably thinks he's too good for it," Ron rolled his eyes. 

"At least we won't have him jeering at us the whole time," Harry shrugged. 

Potions was a tragic mishap for Harry. He has forgotten how easy it was with Snape's old textbook and even with Hermione whispering in his ear that he had to add the porcupine quills slowly as he stirred the cauldron, his concoction ended up an off-white instead of bright purple. 

"My dear, Harry," Slughorn peered into his cauldron with a disappointed look as the clock threatened the end of the day. "It seems your year off has offended your potion skills. Perhaps you need a tutor," he sighed as he vanished the contents of the cauldron. "Fifteen points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger. I'm looking forward to the rest of this year with you."

Slughorn released them from his class with Harry feeling even worse. 

"How come he didn't tell me I needed a tutor?" Ron frowned as they head up to the eighth year's common room. "If Harry's that bad, I must be getting a grade lower than a Troll!" He laughed.

"Yes, but Slughorn thought Harry was good even though he was just copying Snape's work," she pointed out with a disapproving tone. "You've never been very good at potions." Ron shot her a dirty look but she was right.

"I can just get you to tutor me, Hermione," Harry looked up. "You got an O on your O.W.L."

"Of course," she nodded eagerly as if she had just been waiting for him to ask. "I'd have to fit it in between all my studying but I'm sure we could work it out." 

Harry didn't say anything. A new crushing weight sat on his chest. " _You're getting in the way. You're such a nuisance. Ron and Hermione just put up with you."_ He wallowed in his thoughts as they entered the common room and sat down by the fire to start on their charms homework. 

Soon enough, more students trickled through the doors and most people headed up to the dorms to relax before dinner. Harry so desperately wanted to join them, to sink into the mattress and stare up into the canopy to wallow in his grievances but he couldn't just leave Ron and Hermione here so he grudgingly and half-heartedly wrote about the use of undetectable extension charms. 

Soon it was dinner but Harry passed, feigning a sore stomach. He was soon left alone in the common room, his charms paper, though messy, was finished and tucked inside his bag and Harry stared into the flickering flames, his mind drifting off to unsavoury topics. 

After an undetermined time, he jumped to his feet as he heard the common room doors open. 

"Potter, I thought I didn't see you at dinner," McGonagall peered at him curiously over her thin glasses. 

"I'm not feeling too good," said Harry quickly. 

"Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" She asked with a hint of scepticism in her voice. 

"No, it's just an upset stomach." Harry noticed her eyes do a once over of his frame. 

"Harry, you've been through a lot if you need to talk-"

"I'm fine," Harry snapped. He immediately regretted this, expecting the Headmistress to get angry with him for raising his voice but nothing came out of her mouth for a while. 

"If you're sure Potter," she nodded. "I'll be out of your hair in a moment." 

Harry watched her slowly ascend the boy's dormitory staircase curiously, wondering what she could be doing. He sat back into the red armchair and folds his legs underneath him. Soon enough Professor McGonagall returned from the dormitory with a basket of clothes floating in front of her. Harry didn't say anything, in fact, he pretended not to look at her but he couldn't help but be curious as to why she has taken a basket of clothes from his dormitory. 

Harry fought the urge to fall asleep in front of the crackling flames, he'd rather postpone the inevitable nightmares for as long as possible.

It had barely been an hour till Ron came bursting through the common room doors at full speed, looking around wildly.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, placing a hand on a royal blue armchair to catch his breath. "You will never believe... bloody hell... Ginny!"

Harry frowned at Ron's nonsensical words. He stood hunched over and catching his breath as if he had run at a breakneck pace from the Great Hall to the Eighth Year's wing.

The doors opened again and this time Hermione, Ginny and Neville barrelled in.

"Have you told him?" Ginny panted. "Just show him!"

* * *

The five of them briskly walked across the castle to make sure their excursion was completed before the curfew was enforced. Harry instantly recognised the familiar pathway to the Gryffindor common room. Pain shot through Harry's heart when he saw the Fat Lady's portrait talking with the students gathered around her.

Until Ron gripped Harry's shoulder and pointed it out, he did not even notice the unfamiliar incorporeal figure of a ghost who was entertaining a group of second years.

The spirit was facing away from the five of them and Harry squinted his eyes at it trying to identify who it was. Their frame was quite small but clearly male judging from the strong shoulders. He wore jeans and a jacket, very contemporary fashion for any of the Hogwarts' ghosts.

But then he turned to face him, and Harry's complexion turned as white as the ghost in front of his body.

"Hiya, Harry," Fred Weasley beamed. Harry was gobsmacked. His throat constricted not allowing a sound could escape his gaping mouth. Ghost-Fred simply laughed at him. "Like the new look?" He did a twirl.

"I... how?" Harry stuttered. He found himself unconsciously reaching toward him.

"Well, I'm honestly not sure," Fred placed his translucent hands on his hips and sat on the balustrade. "I was doing a brilliant job of kicking some Death Eater's arse, and then I died, and then I was watching everyone else run around and my body being carried off. No one could see me at first which confused me, but slowly over the summer I've been able to make myself visible."

"Freddy, I need to write to mum about this... and George," said Ginny, tears pooling in her brown eyes as she gazed at the ghost of her dead elder brother.

"Oh, you'll give her a heart attack," said Fred cheekily. "And the look on Georgie's face will be priceless."

Ginny pushes past the other students and into the common room and then presumably up to her dormitory to compose the letter.

The crowd begin to disperse soon enough, leaving Harry, Ron and Hermione on the landing in front of the portrait. The three stared in disbelief at Fred who was very amused at this reaction.

"I'm so sorry," said Harry in a hushed tone.

"Oh, shut it," Fred rolled his eyes. "We were going to have to give old Voldy a fight at some point. And anyway, it wasn't your fault. I could have been quicker with my wand work. Your grumbling isn't going to change the fact that I died."

Harry nodded and looked at the floor. Hermione nudged his arm and signalled that they should go before Filch does his rounds. It took a while to tear Ron from his recently departed brother but together they headed to the Eighth year's wing. Harry wasn't sure if seeing Fred had made him feel better or just worse. 


	4. The Patronus

Harry had two slices of toast the next morning feeling considerably more hungry after not having dinner the previous night. The familiar swooping of owls delivering the morning post arrived in feathery style, amazing the first years who stared up in awe. Hermione had immediately stuck her head into the Daily Prophet and Ron had received a skiving snack box from his brother and successfully hid it from his suspicious girlfriend.

Much to his surprise, a large horned owl dropped a letter onto Harry's empty plate. A pang shot through his heart as he was suddenly reminded of Hedwig, his late owl who died trying to protect him. Just another soul caught in the crossfire.

"You better open it, it's from McGonagall," Ron managed through a mouth full of muffin. Harry carefully slid his finger under the seal, tearing it open.

_Meet me in my office during lunch hour,_

_The password is Dumbledore._

"What she want you for?" Ron tried to catch some of the crumbs running down his robes. Harry shrugged his shoulders. His mind travelled back to last night and he prayed right then and there she wasn't going to pry him about his absence from dinner the previous evening.

"We got defence against the dark arts first," Ron pointed out. "We get to meet the other new teacher."

"Let's see if she'll last."

* * *

The classroom was just how he remembered it. Except for this time, instead of Snape or Umbridge sneering down at them, the dark haired witch from the start of term feast was watching them enter indifferently, leaning back into her chair. They took their seats and waiting expectantly for the witch to do something, move even.

"Well," she clapped suddenly making a few seventh years in the front row jump. She got to her feet and stepped up onto her chair, then her desk to jump down the other side. "Aren't you lucky, third Slytherin in a row teaching you DADA, well, fourth technically as old Mad-Eye didn't do too much teaching," she trailed off. She looked around the class, no one said anything as they didn't know what to say in response to this declaration so she continued with her introduction. "My name is Professor Dellow and I will be pushing you through your final year and shoving you out into the real world." She pulled out a Hawthorn wand and with a flick, she wordlessly summoned ten dummies. "Let's see what you can do."

The lesson continued as one by one they showed off their skills at different spells both defensive and offensive. Professor Dellow would periodically yell out a different spell and they'd all take turns, stepping forward and blasting light at the dummies.

Soon even Harry joined in cheering the other students on as they sent their spells at the dummies, a deep breath of normalcy flooded his body and for a while he was not lingering in the past, but rather living in the moment. Neville had produced a spectacular impedimenta jinx and a Hufflepuff seventh year performed a blasting curse that disintegrated her dummy and a nearby table. The energy in the room was exhilarating.

"You're all up to speed with the basics, but a little owl has told me a few of our members can cast a Patronus charm," the professor's gaze fell to Harry. He looked at the ground. Harry hadn't cast a Patronus since before the war and he didn't know if he could. He recalled how Tonks failed to produce such powerful magic after the death of Sirius, and the grief that she had felt. Thankfully Hermione stepped forward and with a swish of her wand, a silvery otter glided through the room gracefully. Ron followed suit and a ghostly Jack-Russel-Terrier bounded through the air after it. Ginny conjured a graceful horse that cantered across the classroom and a Hufflepuff boy sent an elephant parading around the desks.

Harry raised his wand, inspired by the energy in the room. and summoned his happiest memory.

"Expecto Patronum!" He cried. All heads turned to him as he shouted the incantation but his iconic corporal stag did not erupt from his wand but rather a wispy string of silver light slivered from his wand tip before disappearing almost immediately leaving a cold feeling in his chest. He could not produce a Patronus, and every eye in the room was fixed on him, a tsunami of pity hit him in the chest. 

"It's alright, Potter," Professor Dellow placed a hand on his shoulder, he didn't react. He simply stared into the middle distance ahead of him. "Come with me, the rest of you, continuing practising, uh, stuff. Don't break anything!" She ushered Harry into the hallway who still stared blankly at the wall.

"I know you're upset," she said slowly. "After what you had to go through, I'd be more concerned if you weren't," Harry said nothing, but simply sighed and looks down at his feet as he kicked a loose stone across the floor. "Look, if you need anything, to talk, please tell someone," she reasoned. Harry took a deep breath and shruged. Professor Dellow left it at that, whisking back into the classroom leaving Harry alone in the hall. He checked his watch and saw there are only a few minutes till the bell in the clock tower would ring to sound the start of lunch. He grabbed his bag from the back of the classroom and began to walk toward the Headmistress' office.

He had been in the office on many occasions, most of which was when Professor Dumbledore was in charge. There was the last time during the battle when Snape had been Headmaster. He remembers it being darker, plainer. Harry had thought it empty without Fawkes the Phoenix and all Dumbledore's intricate possessions. He wondered to himself how Professor McGonagall had changed it.

He reached the bottom of the stairs where he waited beside the Gargoyle awkwardly. The stone figure occasionally turned it's head to look at him with a confused look before giving up.

"Are you going up or not?" It said in a rather annoyed voice.

"Oh, um, yeah. Sorry. Dumbledore," Harry stammered, not expecting to be interrogated by the Gargoyle.

The gargoyle grumbled something under its breath and let the door swing open. Harry wasted no time in heading up, not wanting the Gargoyle to start yelling at him next.

He climbed the winding staircase, slowly mind you, in no desperation to get caught out of class early. once he reached the top, however, he absent-mindedly knocked on the door, his mind in another place. Unsurprisingly it swung open by itself and he sees the Headmistress send of an owl out of the grand window.

The office was minimalistic and clean. It had a gold and white theme making the room seem bigger as light bounced around the room.

"Ah, Potter." The Professor snapped him from his daydream by a large window. "I just received an owl from Professor Dellow, are you quite alright?"

"I'm fine," he he replied on autopilot.

"Biscuit?" She waved her wand and a tray of chocolate chip biscuits appeared on her desk. Harry walked over grumpily and sat down on the guest chair, dumping his bag beside him and taking a biscuit, biting into it unashamedly. The Headmistress walked over to the desk before sitting down gracefully. By this time Harry had angrily eaten two biscuits and had a small pile of crumbs began pooling in his lap.

"Potter, I invited you here to extend two invitations, one I hope you'll accept and the other you don't have a choice but to," she said from the opposite side of the desk, watching Harry over her thin framed glasses.

"Yes?" He asked curiously.

"Would you like to be captain of the Quidditch team this year?"

For a second, Harry forgot what he was angry about. Quidditch. He hadn't thought he'd play this year.

"I don't have a broom."

"I'm sure that can be easily arranged. Quite a few parties have already expressed interest in... sponsoring you," she watched his reaction.

"I don't need money," he stared down at the desk.

"It would be rude to deny it, it's not money they'll supply, just an adequate broom that will allow Gryffindor to win the Cup again," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Harry, try as hard as he might, could not think of a reason to argue against the offer. He knew it would make him feel a thousand times better to be in the sky again.

"Okay, I'll do it."

"Great," McGonagall smiled, flicking her wand so a piece of paper on her desk folds neatly and slides into an envelope.

"And the offer I can't refuse?" Harry raises his eyes to hers defeatedly.

"Professor Slughorn has informed me of your need for a tutor," she looked over her glasses, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, Hermione agreed to tutor me, it's all sorted," he assured her.

"That's all very well but I had someone else in mind," she informed him. Harry frowned. "As a senior member of the school I want you to set an example for the younger years in my efforts to break down these silly boundaries between our houses."

"What does this have to do with me needing a tutor?" Harry sighed, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and placing the side of his head on his fist.

"I want Draco Malfoy to tutor you."

All colour drained from Harry's face as he sat bolt upright. "Malfoy?"

"Yes, Potter," she said calmly, clearly expecting this reaction from him. "And I expect the both of you to be adults about it and get over your petty past."

"Petty?" Harry exclaimed, getting to his feet. "From the start, all he ever wanted to do is ruin me! And let's not forget how he let Death Eaters into the school and you know, was good buddies with our old pal Voldemort!"

"Potter!" McGonagall yelled. "That is not what I was insinuating by acting like an adult. Sit."

Harry sat himself down again grumpily. He took another biscuit. "I don't know where he is. He's been missing since yesterday morning."

"Malfoy is accounted for," McGonagall said. "He is recovering from a cold in the Hospital Wing."

Harry raised an eyebrow as he imagined Malfoy cowering in a bed in the Hospital Wing. He was somehow glad that the old Malfoy wasn't completely gone. A cold though? Really? Not quite worth Madame Pomfrey's time.

"So, you'll agree to be tutored by him... civilly?" McGonagall asked seriously.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. I'm not sure how you convinced him to do it, however," Harry shrugged.

"He has not yet been informed but he too has no choice either," she reached over to a scroll of parchment to begin writing something down. "The war has been won and Malfoy has chosen his side. I suggest you remind yourself that is the same as yours. You're excused."

The door behind him creaked open again, silently telling Harry that the conversation was now over. He grabbed his bag, throwing it over his shoulder before standing up out of the chair and back the way he came. 

"Oh, and Potter?" McGonagall called just as he reached the door. He turned to face her. "Please make an effort to eat something, we can't have our star seeker off his game."


	5. Flying

When recounting his visit to McGonagall's office at lunch that day, Harry neglected to tell Ron and Hermione about Malfoy. Focusing on his captaincy of the Quidditch team, he told them about the new broom he was promised.

"That's amazing Harry," Ron smiled. "It'll be good to get back on the pitch."

"Only if you'll come and be my keeper," Harry nodded at him, lifting a bread roll in a mock toast.

"I thought you'd never ask," Ron laughed, grabbing a bread roll to meet his.

Harry did, in fact, split the roll, buttered it and spread some jam on it. He ate it all, taking McGonagall's words to heart. He felt very full after consuming it, considering his stomach was not used to the calories. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Hermione watching him with a smile on her face. He felt a ghost of a smile tug at his lips as he lifted his yes toward her.

* * *

Malfoy was still absent the next morning too. Harry went down to breakfast with Ron, discussing who they wanted on the Quidditch team that year without thinking about the absent blonde too much.

He sipped a goblet of pumpkin juice and ate a slice of buttered toast while the post came swooping in. Unexpectedly, a large package was dropped in front of Harry as the breakfast was cleared. From the shape of the object, he already knew what it was. He and Ron shared a look of excitement before rushing back to the Eighth year dorm with it leaving Hermione with Ginny.

The two tumbled into the common room and began tearing at the brown paper before they had even sat down. Harry and Ron stared in awe of the beautiful Firebolt that now lay in their arms.

"Wicked," Ron whispered. Though he held a beautiful broom in his hands, Harry could not help the pang of guilty sorrow he had for his old faithful broomstick. He knew it was selfish to resent the expensive item in his hands. "Let's go down to the Quidditch pitch this afternoon."

Harry nodded. They stowed away the broom under Harry's bed and head back down to the Great Hall just as the students began to disperse for first class.

Herbology passed uneventfully, though Professor Sprout promised them that next lesson they would be studying six-foot tall carnivorous daisies which amused both Harry and Ron.

Double transfiguration moved similarly as the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students listened to Professor Larrowreed list every possible spell that may appear on their N.E.W.T exam.

During lunch, Ron talked animatedly to Hermione about Harry's new broom while Harry pretended to look over his notes from that morning. His stomach growled in protest but he ignored it.

On their way to the dungeons, the two spotted Madame Hooch, the Quidditch coach and new Head of Gryffindor house. They told her the news of Harry's new broom and continuation of his captaincy. She, of course, was ecstatic and couldn't wait for tryouts. She tossed Ron the key to the Quidditch shed as they were about to head into the depths of the castle so they could toss a quaffle about while breaking in the new broom. 

Harry stared at the clock on the stone wall all through double potions waiting anxiously for the bell to ring, signalling the end of the day. Thankfully, Professor Slughorn had them writing out the theory behind Polyjuice potions instead of actually making them which would have just embarrassed Harry further after last lesson's mishap.

The bell signalling the end of the school day resonated through the school and Harry and Ron waste no time in throwing their quills and parchment into their bags and racing back to the Eighth year dorms to change.

* * *

Harry had missed this. The chilly Scottish air hitting his face as he walked through the grounds of Hogwarts, a broom tucked under his arm and Ron Weasley by his side. A small smile reached his lips and he inhaled deeply, the chilly air stinging his nose. 

In the distance, he could see a thin stream of smoke billowing out of the chimney of the small hut belonging to the Groundskeeper Hagrid, he must remind himself to go and visit him soon. The surface of the Black Lake was still, reflecting the sky and the clouds above perfectly. The Whomping Willow stood proudly, nothing giving away the fact that it was sentient. Harry decided at that moment that maybe coming back to Hogwarts wasn't such a bad idea after all. 

It took no time at all for the two of them to reach the pitch, newly repaired and even improved after the war. They found a basket of spare quaffles toward the back of the wooden storage shed and took one out into the field. 

Harry felt the familiar rush of adrenaline racing through his body as he prepared to kick off the ground and into the air. His grip tightened around the handle and with the Quaffle tucked under his arm he kicked hard into the ground and sent himself upwards at amazing speed. 

He laughed as the force of the wind around him flattened his unruly hair to his skull and stung his cheeks. He looped around himself and made himself level with the goal posts where Ron was already waiting for him. 

Harry lost track of time as he and Ron through the Quaffle, taking it in turns to defend the goal posts. Ron felt very proud of himself never letting a single one of Harry's shots get anywhere close to the three hoops. Harry was definitely not the greatest Keeper either, laughing along with Ron when most of his attempts to block his best friend's attacks failed. They both heartily joked that Harry should definitely stick to his position of Seeker lest Gryffindor suffer the greatest defeat in history. 

It was Harry's turn to play Chaser again. Ron threw the Quaffle toward him but without the familiar charm placed upon it, the ball acted like any regular muggle ball, refusing to defy gravity. Harry shot after it, angled toward the ground at terrific speed. He tried to shake off the dizziness attempting to take him as he focused on the ball. The ground was getting closer now, Harry stretched out his arm to catch the ball. Harry couldn't hear Ron's shouts to pull up, he couldn't keep his eye's open and he felt like he was going to vomit. 

The Boy who Lived crashed into the ground unceremoniously and when he didn't move Ron rushed to the ground after him. 

Thankfully, when Ron shook his best friend's shoulder, the dark-haired boy groaned and Ron let out a sigh of relief. 

* * *

Harry opened his eyes and stared up at the uncomfortably familiar ceiling of the Hospital wing. He looked around his bed to see Ron talking to Hermione by his bedside. 

"How long have I been here?" Harry groaned in discomfort. The two faces of his best friends lit up as they heard his voice. 

"Nearly half an hour, you had a wicked crash," Ron laughed, Hermione hit him in the arm. 

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, Harry could hear the concerned tone of her voice. 

"Sore," he answered. "I've had worse falls. How's my broom?"

Ron and Hermione both laughed at his nonchalant attitude and his concern about his broom rather than himself. "Hardly a scratch," Ron assured him. 

Both Ron and Hermione looked up past Harry's bed and he followed their eye line to see Madame Pomfrey walking toward them. 

"He needs to rest now, please shoo," she flicked her wrists at his friends who give him one last encouraging look before they made their way out of the room. 

"I'm fine, really," Harry tried to sit up but with a flick of the nurse's wand, he is forced back down. 

"A broken radius and a dislocated shoulder. Fixed in a jiffy. But what I'm more concerned about is how you fell, Mr Potter," the nurse eyed him over a clipboard. Harry opened his mouth to reply but she gestured with her hand to silently tell him not to. "Fatigue, dizziness, loss of body mass. I've been a nurse long enough to know the symptoms of under-eating." She said accusingly. 

"I'm fine, I've just lost my regular appetite," Harry defended himself. 

"A boy of your age and your athletic lifestyle should not weigh this little. I've asked your friends too. They've noticed that you've been eating hardly enough or even skipping meals altogether for several months now." 

Harry didn't make any effort to reply this time, simply staring at the high ceiling in defeat. 

"I have sent a message to McGonagall with my recommendation of regular checkups regarding your eating habits and whatever else you may want to discuss," she looked at him sadly. "You must realise that mental health is a serious issue-"

"I'm fine," Harry cut her off in a calm voice. He wasn't crazy. He knew that if nothing else. Madame Pomfrey didn't attempt to press the issue any further. Harry watched her as she made her way to the bad to his left, curtains drawn around it so visitors, and Harry, could not pry at the student inside. 

"How are you feeling?" Madame Pomfrey asked the student in a comforting voice, Harry felt a little annoyed she had not spoken to him like that.

"I've been better." Harry's eyes widened. The familiar voice belonged to Draco Malfoy, whom he had forgotten was supposed to be resting in the ward for the past couple of days. 

"What those students did to you, simply a disgrace to Hogwart's name," the nurse said quietly, but not quiet enough. Harry's mind started to race. He began seriously doubting McGonagall's diagnosis of a meagre 'cold'. 

Harry strained his ears to hear Malfoy's reply but none came, the Slytherin boy simply grunted in pain every so often as Madame Pomfrey was administrating whatever treatment she seemed to be applying.

Harry closed his eyes as he tried to think of why McGonagall had lied to him about the reason for Malfoy's disappearance. Harry found himself losing consciousness after a while and let himself fall into what would be an uneasy sleep.


	6. Malfoy's Mishap

Harry sat up fast, his chest shaking with the effort to suck in air. He rubbed his eyes and groaned lowly as he lied back down onto the crimson sheets of the bed in the eighth year dormitories. 

Another nightmare. Hogwarts in ruins. 

He had been running through the destroyed corridors, the sounds of spells being cast and people screaming rung through his ears.

He had been finally cornered in the Headmaster's office, no wand to defend himself with. The undead bodies of Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin, Lavender Brown, Nymphadora Tonks and Colin Creevey stalked toward him, a hoard of others behind them.

Harry could no longer recall what had happened from that point, he simply rolled onto his side and stared at the wall beyond Malfoy's still empty bed.

* * *

Harry felt dread settle in his stomach when he glanced at the watch on his wrist and saw that it said that there were merely five minutes until the end of the day.

He had received a note from McGonagall at breakfast that he was to attend the first of his tutorials with Malfoy that afternoon. He was still not permitted to leave the Hospital Wing until further notice so all rendezvous with the Slytherin had to be performed under the watch of Madame Pomfrey, who Harry is sure, would not be happy with this arrangement.

It wasn't just the cranky school nurse that Harry was anxious about. This was to be the first conversation he was going to have with Malfoy after the war. The boys had always been on opposite sides of the fence, in their ideas and in where they sat in the Great Hall. 

When the bell finally rang Harry took his time putting his things into his bag and did not change his pace when he could feel both Ron and Hermione glaring at him.

"Can you just be a grown-up about this?" Hermione chastised as Harry finished placing his Standard Book of Spells Grade Seven into his bag.

"It's Malfoy," said Ron. "Even after Harry saved his ass last year, he's still a git."

"Neither of you has attempted to have a conversation with him yet, how are you so sure he's still a git?" Hermione rolled her eyes, grabbing Harry by the wrist and dragging him out of the classroom. Harry and Ron didn't say anything in response, they just shared the same look they always did when they knew Hermione was not in the mood to argue with them.

Hermione proceeded to drag Harry Potter across the school to the Hospital Wing with Ron following behind laughing his arse off. Many students stopped in their tracks as they watched the spectacle of bushy-haired Hermione Granger dragging the Chosen One down stone corridor after stone corridor as a mother would drag her moody toddler out of a toy store.

No matter how hard Harry insisted that he would go, Hermione did not let up. Eventually, Harry got the message and caught up to Hermione's pace but she never loosened her iron grip on his wrist. He continuously looked back to Ron, trying to get him to help but he refused, simply stating that it was too funny and that Hermione did have a point.

Harry grumbled to himself about how of an unhelpful friend he was being, intentionally loud enough so that he could hear.

"That was easy wasn't it, or are you going to need me to hold your hand as you go in?" Asked Hermione in a patronising tone as they arrived outside the doors to the Hospital Wing.

"I'm fine, thanks," grumbled Harry.

Hermione nodded and walked off, placing an arm on Ron's bicep as she did to make sure he wasn't going to encourage Harry to do anything dumb. He did, however, glance over his shoulder at him and mouth 'Good Luck' which Harry received with a grim smile.

He took a deep breath, shaking off any unnecessary doubt or worry, and opened the doors to the wing slowly. He saw Madame Pomfrey glance at him curiously before recognising him and walking toward the bed he knew belonged to Malfoy.

"He's here for you now, I suggest you make yourself presentable," she said in a hushed voice but the emptiness of the large room allowed the statement to reach Harry's ears. He continued walking toward the curtained bed slowly to allow Malfoy time for whatever 'making yourself presentable' entailed.

The nurse signalled for him to wait before she headed back to her desk briskly. So there Harry stood, rather awkwardly while he listened keenly to the soft rustling of fabric and clinking of metal against metal.

"Alright Potter, let's get this over with," said Malfoy in such a quiet voice that Harry would have missed if he hadn't been listening so intently.

He pulled the curtain back slowly to reveal Malfoy sitting up in the white bed, the sheets pooling around his waist. He was an odd sight to see. He was wearing his school white button-up shirt but all the buttons were one-off, making the shirt sit wonkily on his thin frame but Malfoy had not seemed to notice. His blonde hair was neatly brushed and parted to the side, not a hair out of place which suggested that it had taken a priority in the process of 'making himself presentable'.

Then there was his face. Harry unconsciously drew a sharp breath when he saw it. For one thing, it was the perfect embodiment of 'vomit green', and not figuratively. His skin, only on his face and creeping down onto his neck, was vivid green. Not only that, but the left half of his face was covered in angry looking boils.

"You can stop staring, Potter, it's unsettling," said Draco flatly. Harry blushed lightly in embarrassment.

"Your shirt's buttoned wrong," he replied stupidly. Draco froze before looking down at his chest and sighed as if he wasn't surprised he failed to perform such a simple task correctly.

"Everything is still a little blurry," he murmured and he began re-buttoning his shirt. Harry sat down in the visitor's chair by his bed and tried to give the boy some privacy as he tried to redo his buttons. Harry couldn't help glancing up at the exact moment the entire shirt was apart, revealing Malfoy's pale chest. He frowned at the large scar running down it.

"Oh, that isn't new. If I recall, this is your handiwork, Potter," Draco said flatly without looking at him. A weight sat heavy in the pit of Harry's stomach as Malfoy felt out his shirt as to make sure he put the right button in each hole.

He could hardly recall the incident. His sixth year had felt like so long ago.

"I didn't know what it did, I-"

"I'm not going to listen to your sob story, Potter, I'm here to make sure you get through your potions N.E.W.T with a passing grade, against my will, I might add."

Harry could offer no response. He felt his eyes drifting to the horrible disfigurement of Malfoy's face. Their eyes met.

"It was worse before. Stop gawking and get out your homework," Draco rolled his eyes. Harry felt rather embarrassed as he rummaged around in his bag to pull out the parchment he had been using in Potions earlier that day. Malfoy held out his hand for it and Harry passed it to him carefully. Their fingers touched just for a moment and Harry pulled his hand back suddenly as he came in contact with the near burning sensation of Malfoy's cold hands.

He looked to Malfoy for a reaction but received none. Harry was having serious doubts about the legitimacy of any Illness at all.

"What happened?" Harry asked curiously. Malfoy did not answer. He just continued reading the notes as if the boy sitting next to him were not even there.

"Potter I am amazed at how you even passed you O.W.Ls with note taking of this calibre," said Malfoy. "Were you even paying attention?"

"What do you mean?" Harry protested. "I checked everything with Hermione!"

"Exactly. This is so clearly Granger's work, not your own. You expect that mud-, uh, know-it-all to take your exams?"

There was no hiding from what Malfoy was clearly about to say, Harry stared at him venomously, wrapping his fingers around his wand in his pocket subconsciously.

"I swear to God, Malfoy," he hissed. "Didn't anything that happened last year knock you off your pretentious, pure-blood high horse?"

Malfoy glanced at Harry with an expression that halted him in his anger.

"Potter, I don't have the energy to argue with you right now. Can I get a rain check on this disagreement?" Malfoy looked exhausted but all these ailments he was suffering did not point to any plausible sickness.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked again, this time he was not going to let him avoid the question.

"I don't want to talk about it, Potter," warned Draco.

"Did someone do this to you?" He pressed. Malfoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. But still, he did not answer. Harry found himself unable to hide a smile at his childish stubbornness. A smile turned into a small laugh which definitely got Draco's attention.

"What?" He snapped. Harry shook his head as he tried to pull himself together.

"Even after all these years of pointing out all our flaws, you're such a Gryffindor sometimes," chuckled Harry, referring to his stubborn nature.

"Potter, you disgust me with your allegations," said Draco as he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, that's right. You can't be a Gryffindor, you're too much of a coward," glared Harry accusingly. Draco looked him dead in the eye, resuming his unreadable expression.

"There is a difference between cowardice and self-preservation, a quality you don't seem to possess."

"Perhaps," said Harry. "But I want to know why you don't want to tell me what happened?"

"We aren't friends Potter, my affairs are none of your business," said Draco.

"Well, you seem to be in a situation where you don't have any friends Malfoy," said Harry, getting frustrated now. "All your little friends have run off into hiding but you. Why is that huh? Why'd you come back! The only reason you and Mummy aren't in Azkaban with your Father right now is because I gave my testimony before the Wizengamot saying that you both were caught up in something you didn't ask for and defected in the end!" Harry whispered loudly, as to not get kicked out by Madame Pomfrey.

"Your _Fanclub,_ Potter," Draco snapped. "Perfect, Chosen Potter's dedicated followers. That's who did this to me! I was minding my own business on the way to class when I was cornered by a bunch of fourth years by the looks of them. They disarmed me before hexing me, over and over, and when I was on the floor and they run out of imagination, they kicked me, Potter. They ran off and I was found an hour later by Flitwick who brought me here. That's how my week has been going Potter, so I don't want to deal with you blaming me for things I had no choice in. Now get out. I said get out!'

Malfoy threw the parchment at Harry who quickly picked up his bag and stepped well away from the angry Slytherin. He turned to leave but stopped himself just before he did.

"I'm not going to let this happen again, Malfoy," he promised. Malfoy ignored him. 


	7. Quidditch Trials

Malfoy had moved back into the Eighth year dorm by the weekend, hex free. Harry tried to meet his eye whenever their paths met but he could never get Malfoy to raise his gaze. 

This, however, was pushed to the back of his mind when he and Ron walked down the Quidditch pitch on Sunday afternoon to conduct the Gryffindor Quidditch trials. 

The air was chilly and the sky was overcast but this did not stop plenty of students, second through to seventh year, from coming down to the pitch to try out. There were many familiar faces in attendance but Harry tried to keep in mind that he needed to be strict and without favouritism, well, maybe not when it came to Ron. 

"Right," he shouted, causing the group of Gryffindors to freeze and turn to him. "Let's go." 

The tryouts were a breath of fresh air for Harry. He felt so at peace to finally be up in the air in brand new Quidditch robes purchased through Owl-Order and his team flying around him. 

Ginny and Ron performed brilliantly as always. Demelza Robins was adamant that she resumed her position as a chaser as well. Jimmy Peakes and Richie Coote both gained their old positions on the team as beaters as well. Harry only became uneasy when the tryouts had been on for nearly an hour and he couldn't find a suitable player to fill the final spot on his team. 

He began running drills focused on the chaser position but he found most of the applicants bull-headed and seemed to just have shown up to get a glimpse of him. He had Ron play keeper as three at a time Harry assessed how willing they were to cooperate as a team and if they could actually get a quaffle past Weasley. 

Harry was beginning to reach his breaking point and just elect Michael Timms, a chubby fourth year who almost fell off his broom while taking an impressive shot at the goal posts which Ron just barely missed. That was when another boy stepped up (figuratively, they were on brooms after all) and managed to weave his way in and out of the other chasers and score a goal to the cheers of the team. 

Harry stared at him uncertainly for a while, he couldn't recognise the boy until he turned to him with a signature smile that twisted his gut. 

He had not recognised him for it had been over a year since he had seen the now fifth-year boy. His shoulders slumped as he turned and Harry saw the face of Dennis Creevey as he high fived his friends. 

The image of his brother's face as he lay dead in the Great Hall flashed across Harry's mind, the sight of the underage boy who died because of him etched into his brain forever. 

"Harry, Harry!" He had not realised he had been staring into space until Ron had flown over to check up on him. "Are you okay, mate?" 

"Fine," Harry mumbled, flying away from Ron and toward Dennis. "I didn't know you could fly."

"Oh, hi," Dennis beamed, quite flustered at the attention from Harry. "I spent some of the summer at my friend Makrov's house. they're a wizarding family see, so he taught me how to play." 

Harry did not know how to reply. The eyes of the entire pitch were on his conversation. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he could tell Dennis was no longer the babbling and carefree first year that fell in the lake. Dennis sighed and looked at the ground some twenty feet below, he definitely knew why everyone was staring. 

"I tried to tell him not to go," Dennis said quietly. "He told Mum he was going to one of our muggle friend's houses but he told me what was happening here and that he was going to fight. He showed me the Galleon, the one from the DA. I had lost mine. He said he'd be back before Mum and Dad found out," he wiped his face on his sleeve, determined not to cry. 

_All your fault. Your stupid war. Should have done better. Should have been better._

"Harry?" Dennis snapped him out of his spiralling thoughts. "Are you okay."

"I'm fine," he squeezed his eyes closed to reground himself. "The final team will be posted on the common room notice board. Try-outs are over, thank you, everyone!"

Harry hung in the air a little longer while the rest of the Gryffindors descend onto the grass below. He caught Ron and Ginny slowly flying in his direction out of the corner of his eye. He forced a weak smile as he turned his Firebolt to face their Cleansweeps. 

"Mate, you don't seem fine," said Ron. 

"I'm just stressed, I think," lied Harry. "Doing our N.E.W.Ts after a year of being out of practice." 

"You're a little pale, Harry," said Ginny softly. Ron looks at her, then at him. 

"You know what McGonagall said, Harry, you've got to-"

"I know, I know!" Harry cut Ron off in a harsher tone than he had anticipated. "I've got it under control." 

The three descend in silence, Ginny heads in the direction of the girl's locker rooms while Harry and Ron head to the Broom Shed to pack away the Quidditch supplies as they had gotten changed in the Eighth year wing. 

"She told me you know," said Ron. 

"McGonagall? Yeah, she made it clear she'd have you keeping an eye on me," Harry grimaced. 

"No," sighed Ron. "Well, yes, but that's not what I'm talking about. Ginny told me about what happened." 

"Oh," Harry nodded while he opened the creaking door. "What about it?" 

"Why didn't you tell me? I'm your best friend for Merlin's sake!" Ron folded his arms across his chest. "And her brother."

"It slipped my mind I guess," Harry threw the quaffle in the large basket. "Or I assumed she would sooner." 

"In summer!" He made his point clear. "Why'd you do it anyway?" 

"It was her idea really." Harry wasn't technically lying but he definitely wasn't telling the whole truth. She had said it aloud, but he had thought it for a while before. "After the war, we both changed. We're different people." 

Ron did not respond to this but Harry could tell he was still annoyed that he had kept this a secret, even unintentionally, from him. 

They trekked back up to the castle and after a quick shower, had gotten dressed in casual clothes to laze around the common room for the rest of the day. 

Their plans, however, were brutally disrupted by Hermione bursting into the common room declaring that they were meant to meet her at the Quidditch pitch after tryouts to visit Hagrid. 

* * *

Hagrid seemed close to tears when he opened the door of his Groundskeeper's hut to see Harry, Ron and Hermione beaming up at him. He quickly engulfed the three in a rib-crushing hug which left them gasping for air. 

Hagrid explained how he had been living in the Forbidden Forrest with his half-brother, Grawp, for most of the year after the Carrow's kicked him out of his hut just after Halloween. He said he had been doing what he could for the students but of course, found it hard to leave the grounds where he could do anything really useful. 

He said it was mostly Neville and Luna who snuck into the forest, often during their Care of Magical Creatures lessons who kept him posted on the happenings inside the school. 

The trio sipped tea out of Hagrid's homemade mugs as they filled an interested Hagrid in on some of their mishaps during the last year. 

"I can' believe you broke in ter the Ministry of Magic! With Polyjuice potion!" He exclaimed as Ron told him about their escapade with their stolen identities. 

Harry stayed mostly silent during these retellings, the memories playing in his mind like a theatre as he relived every dark and terrifying moment. Hermione sensed this and placed a hand on his forearm which he felt tethered himself to reality, even just a little bit. 

They just talked for nearly an hour and a half until the sky was lit up in beautiful hues by the setting sun when Hagrid quickly ushered them back up to the castle for dinner, lest they are caught out of bounds after dark. 


	8. This is Halloween

On October 31st, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were studying in the library. It was littered with seventh and eighth years whilst all the other younger students were outside soaking up the last heat wave before winter.

Harry could not bring himself to focus on his Transfiguration essay, instead, he kept looking around blankly at the other students dotted around the room. He could see the back of Malfoy's head as he sat alone on a table near the restricted section. He couldn't help but wonder to himself if Malfoy felt lonely or upset in his own little corner of the library where any other students were giving him a wide berth as to not disturb the former Death Eater.

"Harry, could you please focus," Hermione placed her hand upon his comfortingly.

"Huh? Sorry, yes," he shook his head, staring down at the parchment before him which still needed another four inches.

"Hey, you never told us what happened," said Ron. "You and Malfoy's tutoring session."

Harry shrugged. "There isn't much to say I guess. He yelled at me to get out before we could get anything done." Hermione looked at him disappointedly when he announced this, but he ignored her. "And you'll never guess why Malfoy was really in the infirmary," he quietened his voice to a whisper and leant across the table. "He was attacked by a bunch of students, they hit him with a bunch of curses and kicked him!"

"The git was provoking them, I suppose," Ron huffed, Hermione hit him on the arm.

"He said he was minding his own business," said Harry. "And he doesn't seem like that's his idea of fun anymore." Harry took another glance over at Malfoy's blonde head. He glanced down at his watch and sighed. His first meeting with the Headmistress was scheduled for ten minutes in her office. He was dreading it. He didn't feel like talking about his feelings with anyone, let alone McGonagall. He began slowly putting all his things into his bag and waved to Ron and Hermione who tried to give him encouraging smiles as he headed out of the library and to the Headmistress' office.

* * *

"Dumbledore," said Harry as the gargoyle that guarded McGonagall's office looked at him expectantly.

"Headmistress said she'll be with you soon, she just had to take care of something," the gargoyle said in a nonchalant tone. The door opened and Harry walked up the stairs cautiously, making his way into the room. He looked around and saw many new things since he was last there. McGonagall seemed to be a fan of simplistic interior design, hanging many white and gold tapestries around the room as well as furnishings that adhered to that colour scheme.

One thing that had not changed was the portrait wall. The portraits seemed to all be whispering as they laid eyes on Harry, a few dashing out of their frames, presumably to alert their two-dimensional friends of his arrival. Harry's eyes immediately fell on the two newest looking portraits, their frames the least burdened by dust and dulling paint. He slowly walked toward them. One was occupied while the other was vacant. From the occupied one, the blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore twinkled at him through the paint.

"Hello, Harry," he smiled. Harry grimaced.

"Hello, Professor," said Harry.

"I must say, when Minerva told me that you had accepted her invitation to return for a final year I was overjoyed. I am so proud of what you've done."

"Uh, thank you, Professor," Harry nodded, looking at his scuffed shoes. "It was mostly luck really."

"Nonsense, my boy," Dumbledore chuckled. "Everything you have learned over the past seven years prepared you for what was to happen. You vanquished Voldemort again and peace has been restored to the Wizarding, and Muggle, worlds."

"By what he learned over the past seven years, are you possibly referring to how you groomed him to die?" The familiar sneer of Professor Snape entered the conversation as he reappeared in his frame.

"I wondered when we would gain your attention, Severus," Dumbledore smiled gently.

Snape looked much better than the last time he had seen Harry. His face was clear of dirt and his hair, while still incredible greasy, was brushed. Harry didn't know what to make of the old Potion's master. After years of hatred, the man had gained a little of Harry's respect when he discovered the truth behind his past, perhaps not enough to completely resolve him of his actions; Harry could never forgive how he treated Hermione and Neville. 

"Good afternoon, Professor," said Harry. Snape peered at him sceptically.

"Horace informs me you've been performing as poorly as ever in class. He's even assigned you a tutor. I guess it's hard actually doing work without using somebody else's."

"Now, now, Severus. I'm sure the boy has other things to worry about than potions class. I hear you're back on the Quidditch team too."

"Uh, yeah," Harry shrugged. "Just had tryouts."

"Well, I'm sure you've decided on an excellent team. Now that I have stepped down from my position as Headmaster, I can officially say that I will be rooting for you," said Dumbledore. Harry shot a glance at Snape. 'Stepped down', more like murdered. Harry had to remind himself of the circumstances of his death. How it was all planned out to save Malfoy's innocence. He had to remind himself that he couldn't be angry at Snape who had to murder the man who had given him everything because it was him who had asked him to do it.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped in surprise. He looked and saw Professor McGonagall behind him. He found it odd that he was now slightly taller than the Headmistress, a figure he had looked up to since he was eleven.

"Come along, Potter," she smiled.

Together they walked to her desk, Harry sat himself down in a slender white armchair facing the Professor.

"Tea?" McGonagall offered. Harry nodded politely. With a flick of her wand, Harry heard a kettle begin to boil in a room off to the side.

"How are you, Potter?" She asked. Harry shrugged.

"Fine, I guess," he replied. "I had another nightmare last night."

"Was this particularly distressing for you?" She raised her grey eyebrows.

"I don't know. It was roughly the same thing I have been dreaming about since the battle."

"Do you have these dreams most nights?"

"Every night."

She frowned and flicked her wand again. "Sugar?"

"Pardon?"

"In your tea, dear."

"Oh, just one." She waved her wand and two cups on saucers gracefully glide into the room and settle in front of the two of them. The cups themselves were white with pale yellow roses decorating the sides which danced in an imaginary breeze across the ceramic surface.

"So, you have nightmares every night, what are they about?" She asked softly after taking a sip of her tea.

"Mostly, I guess, I just see flashes from my memory. Sometimes they're more abstract, like just darkness with odd shapes. Once I wake up they aren't distressing, but when I am dreaming them they just seem so real," Harry explained.

"I see. Potter, I must ask, do you find yourself feeling guilty about the events that transpired here four months ago?" She peered at him as he shuffled uncomfortably in his chair.

Harry found it hard to answer. The answer, of course, was yes but he felt stupid to say that out loud. If he had just died or handed himself over to die sooner, Lupin and Tonks would be raising Teddy, Colin Creevey would be studying for his N.E.W.Ts and Fred Weasley wouldn't just be a trapped soul and would be running his joke shop with his twin brother. So many others wouldn't have had to lose their lives protecting him. Even his own parents died for his life, wasn't that enough?

"Harry." He looked up when the Professor used his first name. "There is no reason for you to feel guilty about it."

Harry could think of at least five but he kept his mouth shut.

"Something I would like to know is why you think this trauma has influenced your diet, or lack of I should say," said McGonagall. Harry sighed.

"I don't know, it just sort of happened, I didn't plan it. It's just been a lot harder to do anything lately."

McGonagall nodded. "I believe you should trust your friends more with telling them how you feel. You know, I think that would be good for you to vent your emotions."

Harry nodded.

"Now, I wouldn't want you to miss the feast tonight. Why don't you go back to the common room to put your things away and go down to dinner with your friends," she smiled. Harry got to his feet and picked his bag off the floor. He thanked her for her time as he left and wandered back to the Eighth year's wing to throw his stuff on his bed and meet up with Ron and Hermione.

* * *

Harry fought a smile as Fred Weasley got into the spirit of Halloween, scaring the first years who weren't so used to the ghosts. No one could be melancholy during the Halloween feast. There were pumpkins everywhere, spiders along the walls were bewitched into creating beautiful art pieces of their webs. The sky above was clear and starry and the food on the table was rich and delicious.

For the first time in a while, Harry ate till he was full which wasn't a lot in perspective, but Harry felt a small spark of pride in his chest at the trivial accomplishment.

He sat up the back of the Gryffindor table with the seventh and eighth years, chatting about things other than their looming N.E.W.Ts for once. Hermione, Parvati, Ginny, and one of Ginny's blonde-haired friends were discussing Kingsley Shaklebolt's current campaign as Minister for magic while Harry, Ron, and Neville chatted animatedly about the Chudley Cannon's chances in the upcoming Quidditch season.

Everything was calm until Harry saw Malfoy slink off out of the hall. It was sixth year all over again. Harry's mind raced with all the possible things Malfoy could be getting up to while the whole school was distracted by the feast. He reminded himself that Malfoy didn't really have any friends and probably wanted to eat and leave as soon as possible, that was until he saw a few Gryffindor students from the middle of the table get up and follow Malfoy out.

He remembered how Malfoy told him he was ambushed by a few students and Harry could only assume they were Gryffindors.

"Hey, I'll be back I just need to, uh, use the bathroom," said Harry quickly as he jumped up from his seat to follow the five students.

From a distance he could tell four of them were boys, around fourth year, and there was one girl whose dark blonde ponytail swayed as she walked. They rounded a corner and Harry sped up, careful not to make much noise, so he would not lose track of them.

"What are you out here for,Malfoy?" One of the boys called. About fifty meters away from the group, Malfoy's blonde head stopped and turned to face his pursuers. Harry ducked behind the corner, wishing he had brought his invisibility cloak.

"What are you up to? Didn't you think we'd notice you slipping away from the feast? Why's that? Are you gonna do dark magic to bring You-Know-Who back? Or is it just because you don't have any friends?" Another boy teased.

Harry watched Draco's face turn red with anger even from the other end of the corridor, yet he made no effort to grab his wand.

The five students advanced on the Slytherin, but Harry decided that their threats were more than enough damage for one night.

"Oi!" He yelled causing the five of them to jump and turn.

"Hi, Harry," the girl said sweetly. Harry vaguely remembers her name. Amy? Amelia? "We were seeing where Malfoy was going. Kind of suspicious sneaking off from dinner, don't you think?"

"I think you should stay away from things you don't understand," said Harry, making eye contact with Malfoy. "Go on, go back to the Great Hall." None of them moved. "Now!"

Begrudgingly, the five Gryffindors shuffled off back in the direction that they came. Harry approached Malfoy cautiously, not knowing how he was going to react.

"Stay away from things you don't understand? A bit hypocritical from you. If I recall correctly, you never knew how to do that," Malfoy folded his arms across his chest as his face faded to its usual pale complexion. Harry was surprised to detect little to no malice in his voice, it even sounded like he was attempting to joke with him.

Harry flashed him a sarcastic smile in return but neither of the boys knew how to continue from there. Eventually, Malfoy shot him a quick 'thanks' and walked away, leaving Harry alone in the corridor wondering whether to follow Malfoy or return to the hall.

With a deep breath, he turned on his heel and headed back to the Great Hall.


	9. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This chapter contains a major character discussing their self-harm scars. If that would make you uncomfortable, there is a chapter summary at the very end for you to read. –
> 
> \- Also, not a warning, but I much prefer Harry and Draco's initial meeting in the film than in the novel, so that's possibly the only thing in this fanfiction that will be based off the films -

The Forbidden Forrest was cold and dark. The wind whistled through the leaves above and caused the small amount of light that was reflected off the moon above which illuminated the grassy path to shift and at times disappear.

Harry emerged into a clearing where Voldemort stood alone waiting for him, his blood red eyes fixated upon him.

"Harry Potter," he said. "The boy who let all his friends die."

"Harry, help!" Hermione yelled. Harry spun around quickly to see the Weasleys, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna and Hagrid standing behind him. He tried to run to them, but his feet were heavy like lead.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted. With a burst of green light everyone fell to the ground dead. Harry tried to scream but no sound would emerge from his throat. He turned to face Voldemort again, but this time Draco Malfoy was standing by his side with his wand raised. "Do it, Draco," Voldemort hissed. "Kill him."

Harry could see the hesitation in Malfoy's grey eyes. He looked terrified. Harry watched as his wand arm trembled, and he kept biting his lip, trying to gain the courage to cast the most unforgivable curse.

Voldemort seemed to grow impatient and shoved Malfoy to the ground. He held his wand high and yelled; "Avada Kedavra!"

* * *

Harry took a sharp breath as his eyes flew open, staring up at the velvet hangings of his bed.

He sat up and swung his legs off the side, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. He sighed and gazed across the room at the other blurry boys sleeping soundly, some had their curtains drawn while others let the breeze from the slightly open window brush across their skin.

Harry stood up, thinking that a walk would be best for him right now. He grabbed his glasses, invisibility cloak and his slippers and made his way as quietly as he could out of the dormitory.

The fire was still crackling, the house elves must not have come yet. Harry wondered what the time was, but he had not checked his alarm clock when he had woken and had left his watch on his bedside table. He pulled out his wand and made his way over the ornate grandfather clock.

"Lumos," he whispered. The light from his wand illuminated the room and a small squeak followed by a thump caused Harry to jump and point his wand in the direction of the fire.

Draco Malfoy was glaring at him beside a pale green armchair close to the fire.

"Merlin, Potter, give me a heart attack why don't you," Malfoy huffed, sitting back down in his chair and turning his head away. Harry whispered the counter charm for his wand light and walked over to the Slytherin boy, sitting in a yellow armchair beside him.

It was evident that Malfoy had slept but had been woken up perhaps as bluntly as Harry had as his blonde hair was messed up and all over the place, similar to Harry's normally. He was wearing a grey, long sleeve v-neck shirt with flannelette bottoms of the same colour that reached just above his ankles. Harry studied him while he refused to look away from the amber light.

"Why are you awake at this hour?" Harry was surprised that Draco was the first to speak.

"Nightmare," said Harry slowly. "You?"

"The same," Draco sighed. "What does the Chosen One have nightmares about?"

"You tried to kill me," Harry chuckled cynically under his breath. Draco looked at him alarmed.

"Is this a regular sort of dream?" Malfoy asked. Their eyes met and Harry could see no ill-intent in the boy's eyes.

"No. But it wasn't out of the ordinary. It was Voldemort." Draco shuddered at the sound of his name. "He told you to kill me but you didn't"

"Oh, I was beginning to worry you dreamt of me often, Potter," he said with a hint of the old Malfoy cockiness in his voic, clearly wanting to steer clear of any topic close to him and Voldemort.

"What was your nightmare about?" Harry asked.

"Not telling," Draco focused himself back on the flames.

"No way! I told you mine!" Harry hissed.

"Yeah, that was your mistake. Never reveal your weakness to your enemies."

"I thought we weren't enemies anymore," Harry raised an eyebrow.

"It's a figure of speech," Malfoy grumbled, placing his left elbow on the arm of his chair and resting his head on his fist.

"So, are you going to tell me or no?"

"I was at home. Father was angry at me for abandoning him and the Dark Lord. He was yelling. Nothing new," he shrugged. Harry felt a pang of sympathy for Draco he had rarely felt in the past.

Neither of them said anything more for a while. Harry even felt himself slipping back into unconsciousness.

"Why did you do it?" Asked Draco. This got Harry's full attention.

"What are you talking about?" Harry frowned.

"At the trial. You told the Wizengamot that my mother and I saved your life, saving us from Azkaban and sentencing us to house arrest. After all the shitty things I did to you, why did you defend me?"

That was a loaded question. Harry suspected that he had been thinking about asking him about that summer's day in the Ministry of Magic.

"Because you did save my life," Harry shrugged. "You could have easily identified me at the manor, but you didn't. You brought me time to escape and I'll never forget that." Harry looked over to Draco who seemed determined not to look at him. "And I knew you had no choice. That night, on the astronomy tower I was there. He told you to kill him, didn't he? You were just a kid. We did a lot of stupid things where kids."

"You say that like it was such a long time ago," Draco mumbled.

"It feels like it was," said Harry. "I don't even remember why we hated each other at first?"

"I offered to be your friend but you rejected me," Malfoy raised an eyebrow toward him.

"You insulted Ron," Harry reasoned.

"I was eleven!" Malfoy cracked a small smile, even he seemed surprised at this.

They fell silent again, simply staring into the flames together and being comfortable in each other's presence for the first time in their lives.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry returned his gaze to the boy next to him.

"You're probably going to regardless of my response," Malfoy sighed.

"When Voldemort died." Malfoy flinched again. "Did, you know, the mark disappear?"

Malfoy sighed and readjusted himself in his seat. His pulled up his left sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, though no longer jet black, contrasting deeply with his pale skin.

Harry couldn't help but notice the thin scars around the mark. There was heaps of them, but none obscured the tattoo.

"Are those?" Harry reached out his hand, but Draco pulled his sleeve back down quickly and went back to leaning on his arm.

"I was on house arrest, Potter, with nothing to do but dwell on my self hatred," he spat, his tone changing dramatically from the calm and sleepy voice that he had been using previously.

"It's okay," Harry says in a quiet voice, not wishing to aggravate him further. "Why didn't you do it on the Mark?"

"That was the point!" he lay his head back against the tall armchair. "All disturbance to that skin, it just heals himself, even with Him dead."

Harry looked at Malfoy and watched him close his eyes. The Adam's Apple in his throat moved as he swallowed thickly, clearly he was thinking about the distressing day or days where he tried to rip open his skin. Harry couldn't help staring at him like this; the messy hair, the unguarded nature. Harry did nothing to stop his eyes raking over his body. He had never seen Malfoy like this, even Harry could admit that with his guard lowered he appeared quite handsome, though he would rather take a swim in the Black Lake than admit that to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary.
> 
> Basically, Harry had a freaky ass nightmare about Voldy and Draco was there. He woke up and found Draco in the common room being a tad emo in front of the fire. They talk about life and Draco reluctantly shows him his self harm after his sleeve falls a little and Harry sees a little bit of it. Harry does try to comfort him but Draco is like 'yeah right'


	10. Gryffindor Versus Slytherin

Excitement was thick in the air during breakfast; it was the day of the first Quidditch match of the year

Harry reached for the bowl of scrambled eggs and scooped some out onto his plate with his toast. He decided that it would probably be wise to eat something that morning despite the protest of his body.

Ginny had told him that Snape had called off the Quidditch cup after only two matches last year without explanation, so much room was alight with anticipation for that day's match as they hadn't been able to for some time now.

Practically the whole school headed down to the Quidditch pitch, everyone wearing their jumpers and scarves of all house colours but there was an abundance of red and green to support the teams playing that morning.

Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team headed down to the locker rooms to change.

"Everybody listen up!" Harry got the team's attention in the small room that connected the male and female locker rooms. "We're going to give our all to Slytherin out there today if it is the last thing we do. This, of course, will be my and some of your last year at Hogwarts, so I want everyone here to play their best so we can finish this year with a Gryffindor winning streak!"

The team cheered and Harry realised at that moment that he had become exactly like his predecessor, Oliver Wood. He laughed to himself and jumped off the bench he was standing on.

Madame Hooch came in to tell the team that they were needed on the pitch. They walked out to the cheers of the crowd, Harry in the lead with Ron closely behind him. Some Gryffindors in the stands begin to sing the revised version of 'Weasley is our King" much to Ron's amusement who was bowing and waving as he walked behind Harry.

Harry stepped away from his team to shake hands with the Slytherin captain Elliot Vaisey: a sixth-year boy with dark brown hair and a toothy grin. Harry was weary as the kid continued smiling at him as they shook.

"You'll be happy to know that under me, Slytherin will be playing fairly this year, none of those dirty tactics that spoil it for everyone," said Vaisey. Harry couldn't immediately think of a repy to that. He was surprised, of course. Where had this kid been hiding for the past few years?

They both returned to their marks and mounted their brooms, waiting for Madame Hooch's signal.

She released the bludgers and the golden snitch and picked up the quaffle with both hands. She blew the whistle hard and tossed the quaffle in the air.

Harry kicked off the ground hard, determined to get a high vantage point to watch the game from. He sat on his Firebolt as the quaffle began racing across the field.

"And Slytherin is in possession!" Parker Williams, a fifth-year Ravenclaw boy with a mouth so large that even Harry knew who he was, had taken over the commentator job. "Beckett passes to Vaisey who dodges that bludger from Coote brilliantly. He passes and, oh! Out of nowhere, Weasley takes possession for Gryffindor, turning the play around back to the other end of the pitch. She passes to Creevey, a new addition to the team who passes back to her and – 10 POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry smiled as Jessica Silver narrowly missed the Quaffle as it flew through the hoops she was protecting.

* * *

The score was 70 – 50 to Gryffindor and Harry still had not seen the snitch. He kept his eye on the Slytherin's seeker whose first name Harry did not know but the name 'PARK' was printed on the back of her emerald quidditch robes.

He was pleased to observe that Park had not seen the snitch either. Sitting above the game as well, cheering for her team whenever they scored a goal.

Harry felt it before he saw it. The tiny wings brushed his cheek as if taunting him when it flew past his face and toward the Slytherin goal posts.

His seeker's reflexes kicked in and he raced after the golden snitch, dodging passed Demelza and Dennis and under one of the Slytherin beaters.

"And I think Potter has seen the snitch with Park right on his tail! Remember, catching the snitch ends the game and grants the team of whichever seeker caught it one hundred and fifty points!" Parker Williams shouted into his megaphone.

Harry stayed low to his broom as he weaved between the other players, rolling and diving to avoid collisions and bludgers.

Airwell scored a goal for Slytherin, distracting Harry as the snitch shot upwards without warning. He cursed under his breath as Park charged after it, giving her the lead.

Harry began his assent, the Firebolt catching up to the Nimbus 2001 soon enough. Park had her eyes fixed on the snitch which didn't seem to want to change directions anytime soon.

"It's Park versus Potter, who will get the snitch?"

Harry extended his arm out and Park did the same. Their hands were mere centimetres apart as they reached for the game-ending ball. It was so close.

The snitch changed directions and the two seeker's heads collided from the sudden movement.

Harry pulled his hand to his head and to his amazement, Park was still sitting there with his rubbing hers.

"What are you looking at?" said Park before racing after the snitch.

Harry frowned in confusion.

He re-joined the two-person race with gusto, his eye's locked onto Park's small body who had found the snitch again. Though the girl had just given up an unbeatable advantage, this was still a Quidditch match, and Harry was determined to win.

Soon enough, they were neck to neck again, reaching out to the golden snitch which fluttered erratically just out of either of their grasps.

Harry had stopped listening to the commentary and had no idea of what the score was. Unless Slytherin had completely incapacitated Ron and were just tossing the Quaffle back and forth through the hoop, he was confident that they had not overtaken their score.

He practically lay flat on his broom, willing it to inch forward just ahead of Park's. He wriggled further up his broom, just enough so that it wouldn't tip. He was almost there.

He didn't notice Park pulling away, or the tower dressed in Gryffindor banners he was about to crash into. That was, until he did.

He hit the grass ungracefully, thankfully he was only a few feet in the air on collision. He sat up slowly, testing out any injuries, there weren't any. But there was, however, a golden snitch laying quiet in his fist.

He jumped to his feet and held it up in the air for the spectators to see.

"Even after a frightful collision, Potter has caught the snitch, earning Gryffindor one hundred and fifty points!" Parker yelled into the microphone over the cheering of the crowd. "Slytherin end the game on eighty points and Gryffindor leave victorious with two hundred and twenty points!"

Harry's teammates descended around him, high fiving him and pulling him into a sweaty group hug.

* * *

Showered and dressed in jeans and his Gryffindor jumper, Ginny Weasley invited Harry to the Gryffindor common room for a victorious after-party, telling Ron about it as an after-thought.

Without hesitation, both boys agreed and together with the rest of the team headed up to the castle where the spectators had already retreated for the evening.

Many students congratulated the team as they walked through the corridors, even some of the Slytherin team smiled at them as they headed in the opposite direction of the dungeons for the night.

Even Fred caught up with them and began discussing Jimmy and Ritchie's form as beaters from what he observed from the castle windows.

"Potter," said Dennis with a grin as they reached the Fat Lady's portrait. Harry's jaw dropped when the frame swung forward to let the Gryffindors in.

The team entered the common room, except for Harry, who remained rooted to the spot in complete shock at the simple but heart-stopping word.

"Come on Harry," Neville called from inside the common room with Hermione at his side. "We can't start the party without our captain!"

Stepping inside the portrait hole was like stepping into another life. A life that felt like a millennium ago as well as just yesterday. The crowd of Gryffindors cheered as he looked around the common room clad in scarlet and gold.

The merriment was contagious amongst the Gryffindors, some third years set off some of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes indoor fireworks with showered red and gold sparks across the room, flashing images of the players' faces, and words like 'Win!' and 'Lions!' and 'Gryffindor!'

"It's a bit weird," Ron mused as he sat with Harry in what used to be their favourite armchairs. "Being back here, you know?"

Harry nodded.

"And to think, titchy first years sleeping in our old beds!" He groaned.

"You do remember that we were titchy first years, right?" Harry raised an eyebrow at his best friend.

"Maybe you were, mate, I was never that short," Ron scoffed.

The afternoon dissolved into the evening, the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall ate a triumphant dinner, most likely annoying the other houses as they laughed and shouted, revelling in their victory in the true spirit of their house.

Harry sat at the back of the table, only engaging in conversation when prompted by Ron or Hermione. He sat and stared at the plaques on the back wall, listing the students who gave their lives whether underage or barely seventeen. He couldn't tear his eyes away, it was like seeing them dead again.

The Gryffindor list was the longest. He bit his lip as he thought of the students who should be there right now, celebrating the victory with them.


	11. Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon

The whole class groaned when Slughorn assigned partners for the rest of the year, claiming that no one should be slacking off in their most crucial year. Harry was not surprised by the Potions master's decision to assign him to Malfoy but that was not to say that he was happy about it.

Malfoy simply grunted in acknowledgement of his presence when he dragged his bag and potions equipment over to the desk where Malfoy was originally sitting by himself.

As they set about concocting the Forgetfulness potion they were assigned, neither of the boys attempted to make conversation. Harry had no clue what he would even say to the Slytherin after their conversation the other night.

Harry was slicing his Knotgrass while he was caught up in his head, thinking about how to talk to Draco. He thought jokingly to himself that the last person that he this much trouble talking to was Cho Chang.

"Potter!" Yelled Draco, grabbing Harry's wrist and pulling it away from the desk. "I doubt the potion calls for your blood."

Harry dropped the knife from his free hand and realised that he had sliced his finger open while not paying attention. The pain of the injury finally set in and he ripped his hand away from Malfoy and grabbed a tissue to wipe the blood.

"I'm just glad you didn't get any on the grass or I would've had you try the potion. Maybe you would've grown an extra brain, so you can concentrate on what you're doing." Harry swore that beneath that snark, Malfoy was actually smiling.

He waved over the Professor who tapped his wand to the tip of Harry's finger. A strange feeling shot through Harry's body as the magic mended the cut. 

"Perhaps I'll do the rest of the cutting, save the rest of your precious seeker's fingers," said Malfoy, chuckling as he continued cutting the Knotgrass before scooping it up into his hands

Harry laughed awkwardly at his comment before grabbing his wand to stir the potion.

"Maybe I need more tuition," said Harry cautiously. He just wanted to keep the conversation alive, but he knew how strange that sounded. Malfoy stopped what he was doing and looked at him with his eyebrows furrowed.

"Maybe you should pay me," Draco said after a few seconds, in a nonchalant tone.

"What! You wish! I'm not paying you for something I don't actually want to do. And even if I did, no," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Then why did you ask?" Malfoy smirked.

"I, uh, no," Harry stammered. Malfoy laughed, it even sounded genuine.

"After dinner in the common room," Malfoy shook his head with a smile still lingering on his lips. "If you're late I'll hex all your socks to bite you."

* * *

In the end, Draco and Harry's potion turned out less than fine. Harry stirred the cauldron clockwise instead of anti-clockwise which Professor Slughorn told him would have not only caused the drinker short-term memory loss, but all the hair on their body would fall out.

Harry and Draco parted ways on the way to Defence Against the Dark Arts as their two houses did not take that class together. In fact, out of all the classes that Harry took, he only had potions class with the Slytherin house. He, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny arrived to DADA barely in time for class to begin thanks to Peeves the Poltergeist's antics on the staircases.

Harry took his usual seat near the back of the classroom with Ron and Hermione as Professor began her lesson on the unforgivable curses, something that the whole class had already been taught during their fourth (or third) year by Bartimous Crouch Jr who disguised himself as the Auror, Alastor Moody.

"I can't believe he put me with Melissa Linch," said Ron, still complaining about Slughorn's partner assignments. "She kept laughing at everything. What is so funny about leeches?"

"It's because when you're allowed to decide who your partner is, you barely do any work," Hermione rolls her eyes. "But at least you don't have to put up with Quinn Mark's halitosis."

They all laughed amongst themselves as they copied out the legal consequences of the three curses.

"Sucks to be you though," Ron muttered to Harry. "Forced to speak to that git even more."

"He's alright now," Harry tried to defend Malfoy, something he never thought he'd do. "He's a lot more mature than what he used to be."

"I still don't know why you didn't send him to Azkaban," Ron shook his head. "He tried to kill Dumbledore! He tried to kill us!"

"That wasn't exactly his choice," said Harry. "He didn't know any better, and when he did, he was forced to do all those things."

"Will you two stop it?" Hermione hissed. "Maybe Harry's right, maybe he has changed."

Ron rolled his eyes and leant closer to Harry. "He still could have stood up for himself, spineless git."

"Self-Preservation," Harry muttered, remembering his and Malfoy's conversation in the common room. "He's a through and through Slytherin."

* * *

Harry arrived in the common room with his potions things and sat at a two-chair desk. Looking around the room, he could not see Malfoy. He chuckled to himself about how Draco had such little faith that he'd be on time yet was late himself.

It had been ten minutes before Harry saw Draco enter the common room, he looked flustered and a little on edge.

Harry watched him as Draco scanned the room for him. Their eyes met. Malfoy bowed his head as he made his way over to him. Harry worried that the reason he was late was because those nitwits tried to harass him again.

Malfoy sat down without a word to Harry, he reaches out for some of Harry's notes and reads through them.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked quietly, not wanting to anger the boy.

"I'm fine," said Draco, grabbing Harry's quill and crossing out something that he had written.

"You're lying," Harry deduced. "What happened?"

"Drop it, Potter," Draco warned.

"No, tell me. Was it them again?" Harry asked, reaching out to Malfoy's arm. He pulls himself away and jumps to his feet away from him.

"I said leave it!" Malfoy growled. "I do not need your help! I do not need perfect Potter to come to save me! I can handle my problems by myself believe it or not!"

The whole room had quietened to watch Malfoy's outburst. Harry sat in stunned silence and stared at Draco's face reddened with madness, his hands curled into fists at his side.

Harry snapped himself out of his stupor and got to his feet to face him.

"Maybe you should stop being a defensive twat and let me help you!" Harry rebutted.

"Why can't you just leave me alone? You and your goddamn hero complex. You just have to save everyone, don't you? Well, guess what Potter? I don't need your pity!" Malfoy raised his voice so that the whole room could hear, whether this was on purpose or not, Harry could not tell.

"If it wasn't for my 'help' you'd be you wouldn't be here with your full course meals and your comfy bed. You'd be in Azkaban with dear old daddy-"

"Don't you dare talk about my father!" Draco roared.

If the whole room wasn't looking at them before, they certainly were now. Draco shot a dirty glare at the eighth-year cohort before storming upstairs to retreat to his bed perhaps, hiding away behind his curtains.

Harry knew the eyes of everyone were upon him, but he didn't care. He was furious at the insolence of Malfoy. No matter what he did, all that blonde git wanted to do was push him away.


	12. McGonagall's Solution

Harry and Draco had managed not speaking to each other for almost two weeks. Even in Potions class, the only communication they had was pointing the ingredients they needed and scoffing at the other's idiocy.

It was the morning of the Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match and Harry was looking forward to being able to switch off from class work, from his own thoughts, from Draco Bloody Malfoy.

He sat at the Gryffindor table but made no effort to eat, he talked with his friends as they decided who they were going to root for.

What was unexpected, was the letter that landed on his empty plate.

"McGonagall again?" Asked Ron with his mouth stuffed with toast. Harry nodded, tearing open the envelope.

_Mr Potter,_

_I ask you to attend a meeting in my office when breakfast ends. Do not go to the Quidditch stadium._

_McGonagall._

"Hey, that's not fair!" Said Ron after reading the note over his friend's shoulder.

"Hopefully I'll be able to catch some of the game," Harry shrugged.

"Well, I'll update you on everything when you come down," Ron patted him on the back reassuringly.

"You need to eat something," said Hermione, clearly listening to their conversation. "Please."

"I'm not hungry," Harry replied, picking up a piece of toast and tearing off a piece to nibble on.

"That's not up to you," Hermione shook her head. "I don't want to baby you Harry but you're acting like a child."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, there was truth in her words, but it wasn't the truth he wanted to hear. He finished the piece of buttered toast in his hand and under Hermione's stern gaze, he ate another.

He sat grumpily as the rest of the school filed out of the hall toward the school grounds. The food and plates had disappeared off the tables and Harry fiddled with the piece of parchment in front of him as he waited for everyone to leave.

The walk to the Headmistress' office was long and solemn. All Harry could think about was the game he was missing and how he hoped the meeting would not take too long, so he could be able to watch at least some of the game.

"Dumbledore," said Harry as he approached the gargoyle guarding the office.

"Two of you in one morning? It's too early for this," said the gargoyle. Before Harry could even rebut about how the Gargoyle sleeps all day anyway he was too caught up in what it had actually said. Two of you?

He walked up the stairs and into the office and his stomach dropped. There were two chairs facing McGonagall's desk. Malfoy's blonde head turned to look at him with a scowl.

"Potter, sit," McGonagall ordered. Harry did not hesitate in taking a seat in the cream armchair, it wasn't very comfortable, the line layer of upholstery seemed to be stretched over a wooden frame with the bare minimum of padding. "Would you like to explain yourselves?"

Neither of them said anything. Harry avoided her gaze and looked out the large window. He realised that from the tower he could see the Quidditch pitch in the distance.

"Why I haven't received notes of any meeting between the two of you?" She asked. Neither of the boys spoke up, not daring to meet the headmistress' cold stare. "Mr Malfoy?"

"Because we haven't," Draco murmured.

"Haven't what?" McGonagall leans forward in mock interest.

"Met for tutoring," he grumbled.

"Yes, and would either of you like to fill me in on why? I'm sure your excuse will be thrilling."

Again, neither Harry nor Draco spoke up. Harry looked past her out the window. In the distance, small blue and yellow figures dart around. He could barely tell what was happening but one of the yellow blots seemed to score a goal.

McGonagall snapped her fingers and Harry looked back at her. He stole a glance at Draco and he looked as flustered as he felt.

"Why haven't you been attending tutoring?" She asked again.

"We had an, uh, disagreement," Harry looked away.

"Ten points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin," said McGonagall. "You had a disagreement? Would you two act your age for once in your life? You are not first years anymore, you are eighteen. I shouldn't even have to have this conversation with you."

Harry looked out the window again, trying to figure out what was happening. It was impossible to tell from the distance. A blue dot scores a goal.

"Will you two pay attention?" McGonagall snaps. Harry quickly turns his eyes to the professor who placed her face in her hands.

"I-"

"No, Potter," McGonagall shushed him in an exasperated tone. "Both of you are to remain in the castle for the remainder of the game as punishment."

The two groaned but McGonagall was not having any of their complaining.

"Mr Malfoy, I am assigning you to be substitute seeker for the Slytherin team," McGonagall announced.

"What? Why?" Said Malfoy defensively.

"Because as much as you and Mr Potter do not get along, the one thing you both have in common is a passion for Quidditch. I expect you to attend every training period, without question."

Malfoy nodded, looking down at his lap.

"Tomorrow, I understand you share a free period. I want the two of you to go down to the Quidditch pitch and... resolve your differences."

Harry looked at Draco, and Draco was looking at him. He could not tell what the blonde boy was thinking, it was like Draco was trying to understand how he worked. This made Harry uncomfortable, so he scowled and looked back to McGonagall.

* * *

Harry shrugged off his school robe and placed it on his bag upon the grass. He loosened his tie and picked a hair, presumably Crookshanks', from his jumper.

He mounted his broom and hovered a few meters off the ground, flying around lazily.

He could think of a million better things to do than being here in the brisk November air waiting for Malfoy. He could be playing Wizard's Chess with Ron or finishing his Transfiguration homework to name a couple.

"I don't have a broom." Harry spun on the spot quickly to see Draco in his school robes with his arms crossed against his chest.

"Ever heard of the Broom shed?" Harry asked sarcastically. Malfoy rolled his eyes before strolling toward the shed.

Harry smiled to himself and raced toward the wooden structure, confident that he would arrive before Malfoy in any world.

He swung the door open and grabbed the first broom he saw, tucking it under his arm and flying back to an unimpressed Malfoy.

He tossed it to him and Draco's seeker's reflexes caught it without hesitation. His expression made it clear to Harry that he was not impressed.

"You expect me to ride a Shooting Star?" Malfoy asked with disgust as he ran his hands over the handle.

"It was only an invitation," Harry shrugged defensively.

Malfoy never ceased his glaring at Harry whilst he mounted the broom begrudgingly. Harry laughed under his breath as Malfoy kicked off the grass and rose in the air, clutching the rickety broom for dear life.

Harry shot off to the centre of the pitch and did a loop, just to show off. He wasn't sure why, it just felt good to out-do Malfoy.

"Accio Quaffle!" Harry pointed his wand at the broom shed. A small red ball flew out the open doors toward him, he tucked his wand up his sleeve just in time to catch the Quaffle with both hands.

He held it up, looking at Malfoy. If they had to be here together, Harry thought they might as well do something productive.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and turned away from Harry, clearly pretending to be interested in the hem of his robes.

Harry shook his head before throwing the Quaffle toward the goal post, recalling it with the summoning charm when it passed through a hoop.

He did this for a while, looking behind him every so often at Malfoy who still refused to look at him, hovering only a few feet above the ground.

Harry dropped the ball, bored of aimless tossing the Quaffle. It was no fun without a keeper.

"Oi!" Malfoy yelled. Harry turned just in time to see a Quaffle just before it hit him square in the face.

Harry flew back and caught the quaffle before it fell to the ground. "What was that for?"

"What was that for? You threw it at me!" Malfoy bellowed.

"No, I didn't! Depulso!" Harry used the banishing charm to send the Quaffle back toward Malfoy, he tried to avoid it, but the Shooting Star was not quick enough, and he was hit in the arm.

"Ow!" Malfoy grabbed the ball out of the air angrily. "Depulso!"

Harry quickly avoided the Quaffle on his vastly superior broom. "What was that?" Harry chuckled, circling around and snatching the ball out of the air. "Too slow. Depulso!"

Malfoy flew to meet the ball and caught it, grunting with the force he took to his chest. "Is that the best you've got, Potter? Depulso!"

The ball had no chance of touching Harry. He swiftly moved out of its path, laughing mockingly as he did so. With a flick of his wand, he summoned the ball to him and had it hover in front of him.

"Oh, don't you worry, I'm just getting started. Depulso!" He smirked. Malfoy lowered himself before kicking off the ground to build what little speed he could muster on the school supply broom. He raced to meet the ball.

"Arresto Momentum!" Malfoy shouted. The ball slowed as it landed in the Slytherin's hands. "You're going to have to change up your strategy, Potter. You're getting lazy."

* * *

"Shit, what time is it?" Draco asked as he caught the Quaffle thrown at him.

"We should have left five minutes ago," said Harry after glancing down at his watch. He rushed to the ground to grab his bag and robe.

"This is all your fault!" Draco grumbled as he threw the Shooting Star and the Quaffle into the Quidditch shed.

"Maybe if I didn't have to wait for you to get off the ground, we could have left earlier," Harry teased. Malfoy glared at him as he flicked his wand to lock the shed.

"I'm writing home tonight for my broom, Potter, you best be lucky you've already played Slytherin," said Malfoy warningly as he picked his black school bag off a bench.

"Oh, the Nimbus 2001," Harry said in a mocking tone. "Doesn't that belong in a museum."

"Yeah, ha ha. Very funny," Malfoy rolled his eyes as he caught up to Harry.

Harry, as he walked, paused for a second to render the fact that Draco Malfoy was walking beside him. Willingly. Without ill intention.

"What are you looking at Potter?" Malfoy snapped. Harry hadn't realised he had been looking at the boy beside him.

"Nothing, sorry," mumbled Harry, looking forward quickly.

The two walked in silence up to the castle before parting ways to attend their separate classes.


	13. Misplaced Priorities

"How are you feeling today, Potter?" McGonagall smiled at him. Harry shrugged, nibbling a white chocolate chip biscuit from a plate on the Headmistress' desk.

"Fine."

"And are you keeping up with your studies?" Asked McGonagall.

"I guess."

"Even Potions?"

"I think I'm doing alright."

"That's good to hear," McGonagall nodded. "And what about Mr Malfoy, I have received the notes from your latest tutoring session and am pleased to see you two have gotten past your differences."

"You can say that," Harry laughed under his breath. "He's still his snarky self."

"Either way, it's good to see that you're acting your age. Now, I don't want to keep Professor Larrowreed waiting. Off you go," McGonagall shoos him from her office with a soft, motherly smile.

Harry leaves with his bag over his shoulder and hands in his pockets. It was the first day of December and the air was icy. His footsteps echoed loudly in the stone corridors as everyone else in the school had already arrived at their first class for the day. He made his way to the Transfiguration wing and knocked quietly on the wooden door of the classroom.

The door creaked open and Ernie Macmillan's face popped into view.

"Professor, he's here!" He shouted, opening the door further for Harry to enter.

"Thank you for showing up Mr Potter," the Professor smiled at him as he took his seat next to Ron. "I'm sure Miss Granger will update you on what you've missed."

The class resumed in conversation as small groups of students hunched around desks writing hastily on pieces of parchment.

"We've been testing each other on stuff from as far back as first year," said Ron. "It makes me kinda wish I had paid more attention, anything from third year and before I have no memory of!"

Hermione laughed. "Well, whose fault is that?"

"I can't wait for Christmas," Ron groaned. "Just so I don't have to think about conjuring spells or healing potions or sleeping curses for even just a little while."

"Ronald Weasley, don't you think for a second you're skipping out on studying just because you're at home," said Hermione, prodding her boyfriend with her wand. "You too, Harry."

Harry frowned. Returning to the Weasley's for Christmas was obviously a given but he had just never thought about it. At the beginning of the year, he could not wait for Christmas break but now, he felt like the scars left by the war had begun to heal, just a little.

"Maybe if studying is the agenda, we should stay here, utilise the library," Harry suggested. Ron and Hermione both looked at him like he had just suggested that they bring Voldemort back from the dead.

"What makes you say that?" Ron frowned. "You're joking right?"

"Even I think a break would be good for us," Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you want to go?"

"I don't know," said Harry. He looked down at his lap. He did know, a little. Malfoy would be here all alone, not wanting to return to his manor home where he would be stripped of his wand and forced to sit around all day with no contact to the outside world. Those were the terms of his house arrest. He knew Malfoy would not cope with being alone, as much as he didn't want to admit. Harry had a feeling that what Draco had told him was just the tip of the iceberg. He wasn't sure when he decided to care so much for Malfoy, the boy who decided it was his job to make Harry's life miserable since they were eleven. Harry decided not to think too much into it.

"It's probably because he wants to stay with his new best friend Malfoy," Ron folded his arms as he slumped back in his chair. Harry frowned, shocked at his friend's words.

"What makes you say that?" Asked Harry defensively.

"Spending all your time with the git, being all friendly. It's disturbing and I don't trust him," he huffed.

"He's not-"

"Ron don't be ridiculous," Hermione interrupted Harry. "He has to spend time with him for his tutoring and being friendly isn't a bad thing."

"Yeah," said Harry nervously. "It's not like I like spending time with him. But he has changed, a little."

Ron rolled his eyes and remained sulking in his chair. Hermione gave Harry a small smile in support.

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down at a desk in the common room during their Care of Magical Creatures free period. Harry was in no mood to study, he barely listened as Hermione explained what they were planning to do in their free hour.

Something hit him in the back of the head. He frowned as he turned around. There was no one behind him. He looked to the floor and there was a small piece of parchment, crumpled up into a ball.

He looked back to Ron and Hermione who were too busy arguing to notice his discovery. He picked up the piece of parchment, unravelling it gently.

_Potter,_

_Ditch the homework and come fly with me._

_I've got your broom._

The letter did not come with a sender, Harry already knew who sent it. Harry fumed at the pompous attitude of Malfoy. Why would he leave Ron and Hermione to hang out with him? Homework is more important than flying anyway.

Well, flying's a lot more fun.

And Draco already had his broom, so no need to head up to the dorms.

"Hey, I'm just headed to the bathroom," Harry lied. "I'll be back in a second."

Ron and Hermione all but nodded in acknowledgment of his announcement and Harry felt safe to sneak out of the common room.

He pulled the heavy wooden doors open and slipped out into the hallway. Before taking a step forward he felt something hard hit his ankle and he tripped, almost landing on his face if it weren't for his fast reflexes, putting his hands out to stop his fall.

The empty corridor helped echo Malfoy's laugh as Harry got to his feet.

"Watch it, Malfoy," Harry hissed.

"I think it is you that needs to watch it," Malfoy smiled. "Here." Malfoy tossed the Firebolt toward him.

Harry guessed that is what he used to trip him and snatches it out of the air, still scowling at Malfoy. Draco smirked shadily, and he held the handle of his Nimbus 2001 with both hands, leaning on it a little. Narcissa must have sent it

"Oh, you need to lighten up, Potter," Malfoy rolled his eyes before walking away. "Are you coming or not?"

Harry didn't say anything in return while he followed the Slytherin boy, staring at the back of his head.

He had a moment of self-realisation. Why was he doing this? As much as he wanted to, he wasn't sure if he could trust Malfoy, the kid was still unpredictable and highly sensitive. He knew Ron and Hermione would be furious when they found out that his bathroom break was just a rouse to slack off, slacking off with Malfoy would just make things even worse.

But no matter how many times his brain thought about the consequences, Harry's feet would not halt their pre-determined route to the Quidditch pitch. Or was it their will to follow Malfoy?

He pondered this for a second. Was he really just there for Malfoy. The blonde-haired boy was a few feet in front of him, humming the tune to a song Harry couldn't recognise. Did he consider Malfoy a friend now? He wasn't sure. There was just something about him that intrigued Harry. Was it his dark past? His hidden but genuinely caring personality. His troubled present? His uncertain future? Or maybe something else entirely., something Harry could not put his finger on. He simply felt the need to be with Malfoy as much as he could. To watch out for him, to protect him. And maybe even to let him protect Harry.

In a way, Harry could relate to his childhood rival on a level that Ron, Hermione or anyone else in his life could not. Both their childhoods had been tangled up with the Dark Lord against their will and today, even after his death, they were still being affected in different ways to everyone else.

Draco had not noticed his staring as he was looking the other way which Harry could not be more thankful for. Malfoy had barely made it out the large wooden doors of the Entrance Hall before mounting his broom and racing off across the Hogwarts grounds.

Harry smirked to himself as he swung a leg over his own broom and kicked off the stone pathway. He knew they would be in trouble if they were caught flying outside of the Quidditch pitch but at that moment, he couldn't care less.

He had little trouble catching up to Malfoy as he neared the stadium, he rolled around him, teasing him lightly before speeding off.

It was not unusual for Harry to lose track of time while in the air. It was one of the few places he felt calm and at ease.

However, Harry's stomach plummeted when he spotted a red-haired figure glaring up at him from the ground. He slowly lowered himself, so his feet were firmly on the grass before meeting his eye. Ron was positively fuming, his face, becoming increasingly red with anger.


	14. Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans

Harry walked at an incredibly fast pace against the tide of students with his fists balled up by his sides. No one dared stand in his way as his scowl parted the crowd like the red sea.

He was on his way to the Hospital Wing without a thought for breakfast. When he woke up barely half an hour earlier he noticed that Malfoy was not still sleeping soundly in his bed, nor was he sitting in one of the plush armchairs of the common room, Harry knew there was only one place he could be.

From the few weeks he had been sharing a dormitory with the Slytherin, Harry knew that Draco was not a morning person and would never leave the common room without looking presentable. He had also not seen the boy go to bed. In fact, he had not seen him since Ron caught the two of them on the Quidditch field. Ron was not happy with him, nor was Hermione for that matter. After a long and tiring argument, Harry and Ron went to bed without making up and Harry fell asleep trying to think of ways to make it up to him.

Harry pushed open the doors to the Hospital wing and immediately spotted the only bed which was inhabited.

Draco Malfoy was lying deathly pale (more than usual). He was nowhere near as disfigured as the last time he was here, perhaps he had even defended himself.

"I swear to God," Harry growled. Malfoy opened one eye and looked at his visitor. He rolled his eyes and closed it again. "Those little shits will be sorry."

"Oh, cool it, Potter," Malfoy sighed in a tired whisper. "Or would it kill you to not save the day for once?"

Harry didn't acknowledge his comment. He was too busy thinking up ways to get back at the horrid students. Malfoy sensed this and opened his eye again.

"Go to breakfast. Eat, I know you haven't yet."

"I-"

"Go, Potter, or I'll get Madame Pomfrey to escort you out."

Harry pouted and shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes before making his way down to the Great Hall.

He wasn't sure why he was obeying Malfoy's words so easily. His first thought was that Malfoy had imperised him without his knowledge.

He sat next to Hermione at breakfast who had Ron on her other side. She looked between them silently and groaned. Harry knew she was annoyed at him, but more annoyed at the fact that he and Ron were fighting. He elected to ignore her however, grabbing some toast and a goblet of Orange Juice.

It was clear that Hermione was mostly angry at him for abandoning their free period of study. When Ron had dragged him by the back of his robes all the way to the Eighth Year common room she had lectured him about the importance of their N.E.W.Ts and how abandoning his friends was a dick move. Harry had listened to her words his head hung low. Ron, who was standing beside her, was intent to make this all about Malfoy. He yelled at him, exclaiming that the Serpent was getting inside his head, feigning the act of the innocent before taking advantage of Harry.

Harry never once argued. The bell soon rang for the final class of the day and the three of them packed their things for Charms.

Today was Saturday and a Hogsmeade visit day. Harry did not want to go with Ron when he was acting so childish, but Hermione insisted and the two gave in. Harry was now hoping to slip away from them at some point to hunt down the malignant Gryffindors who decided that they themselves would punish Malfoy for his crimes.

What they didn't understand, and Harry didn't either until recently, was that Malfoy had already paid so heavily for his crimes, both those that were placed upon him and those he made of a conscious decision. He had paid in the separation from his father and the house arrest of his mother. But he had also paid with the emotional toll of the horror he had experienced under the influence of Lord Voldemort.

Students began to trickle from the hall and Harry had eaten enough breakfast to satisfy Hermione, so she proceeded to drag Ron from the table who was still stuffing blueberry muffins into his mouth. She was determined to get the two to make up before the end of the day, but Harry wasn't sure it would be that easy. He had expressed his apologies to the both of them yesterday, it was Ron who refused to look past his own stubborn nature and forgive him.

They head out past Filch and onto the grounds to make their way over the bridge to Hogsmeade with their coasts and scarves wrapped tightly around them in the December air. The grey clouds that hung in the sky threatened snow but not a single crystal of ice had fallen this early in the month.

Neville had caught up with them and was conversing with Hermione about the theory of Switching spells which he could just not understand. Harry and Ron stood on either side of the two of them, silent and looking ahead. Harry was in no mood to grovel to Ron, he believed that his apology was enough, he was here for Hermione. He knew in the back of his head that they were both right about his lack of subtlety in ditching the two of them to go flying with Malfoy, but it was just a onetime thing. He wasn't going to become Malfoy's best buddy and spend all his time around him. He was just tired of school work and he needed a break. That is, at least, what he was telling himself.

Hogsmeade was as beautiful as ever. The cobbled streets and the quaint buildings with their thatched roofs never failed to put a smile on Harry's face. The four Gryffindors headed in the direction of Honeydukes to replenish their supplies of Wizarding sweets to maintain their sanity during the school year.

The store was bustling with Hogwarts students, especially third years and it took the Eighth-years a while before being able to leave with their own brown paper bag of sweets.

With Ron and Harry still refusing to talk directly with the other, the four discussed their current homework assignments and classwork as they made their way to the Hog's Head; their preferred pub.

It was a relief when they stepped inside the building and felt the warm air grace their skin. Quickly shrugging off their coats and scarves, they ordered four Butterbeers from Aberforth and chose a booth near the window. Hermione sneakily grabbed Neville's wrist and pulled him into the seat next to her, forcing Harry and Ron to sit side by side. She smiled innocently at Harry when he realised this, and he slid into the seat first before Ron begrudgingly joined him.

It was quite awkward for Harry, he kept wanting to turn to his best friend and chat with him like there was nothing wrong.

_You betrayed him, for Malfoy of all people._

_You really are a terrible friend._

Harry sighed, staring out the window into the street, trying to distract himself from himself.

Aberforth soon came over with a tray of Butterbeer for the four of them. Harry took his mug with a small smile in thanks. He took a sip before sneaking a glance at Ron, who was still adamant on ignoring him.

He could tell that Hermione was becoming more and more annoyed at Harry and Ron's childish argument.

"You know, this is so much better than the Three Broomsticks," Neville nodded, looking around the slightly dingy pub. "It's way too noisy in there."

"Yes, we can actually have a conversation in here," Hermione glanced between Ron and Harry, trying to get them to pick up on her intentions.

Harry played dumb and simply nodded, it was Ron that needed to start the conversation, not him. He was the one who couldn't get over one tiny thing.

No one said anything, the quiet crackling of the fireplace and the peaceful ambience of the busy street outside where the only sounds preventing total silence.

"Enough already!" Hermione yelled, slamming her hand and her mug of Butterbeer down on the table. Neville let loose a little squeal, clearly realising he has just walked into something he did not know the backstory of. "For the last seven years, you two have been driving me insane! Ronald Bilius Weasley, Harry James Potter. Will the two of you look each other in the eye and talk!"

She leant back into the chair and folded her arms across her chest.

Harry set his mug down slowly and turned his head to cautiously face Ron.

Ron was still glaring at Hermione, his hands curled into fists on the table.

"Perhaps, if someone knew to value their friends over traitors, we wouldn't have a problem," Ron smiled cynically, not looking at Harry.

"I said I was sorry," Harry rolled his eyes.

"I don't want sorry," Ron finally looked at him, fire in his eyes. "I want you to promise me, right here, right now. I want you to promise me, and Hermione, and Neville bloody Longbottom for that matter, that Malfoy will never pull you away from us. He will never, ever, distract you from what matters. Us."

"Why would you even say that?" Harry scoffed. "Malfoy has changed but he will never come before you. Any of you."

"I need you to promise," said Ron darkly.

"I promise," said Harry confidently.

* * *

Harry sat on his scarlet and gold four-poster bed in his pyjamas, watching Ron take a bean from a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"Chocolate," he declared with a grin. The room of boys groaned in disappointment. "Neville, you're up!"

With a flick of his wand, he tossed the box to the bed next to him. Neville caught it uncertainly. He grew up in a pure-blood household so he knew the risk he was about to take when he dipped two fingers into the box.

"Eurghh!" He cried, the room exploded in laughter. "Carpet!"

Neville pointed his wand to the opposite side of the room to the first bed by the door with an ornate yellow and black badger adorning the wall behind it.

Ernie Macmillan snatched the box out of thin air and leant back on Justin Finch-Fletchley, who apparently was his boyfriend.

He smirked as he plucked a purple bean from the box and placing it in his mouth. "Blueberry muffin."

He passed the box to Justin who laughed. "No thanks, I'm not in the mood to potentially bring up my dinner."

"Okay, Finch-Fletchley," Ron folded his arms. "Truth or dare."

"Hmm, truth," said Justin decided, adjusting himself on his bed under his boyfriend who in turn adjusted himself accordingly.

"First crush, go," said Ron, chuckling to himself.

"Hannah Abbott in second year," he replied casually.

"Wait," Ron frowned. "I thought, how?"

Ernie and Justin both laughed. "It may just blow your mind but Justin likes both boys and girls," Ernie explained. Ron's frown got even deeper and Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. The whole dormitory seemed to have this reaction and the two lovebirds sighed.

"It's almost the 2000s guys, better prepare yourselves now," said Justin before leaning over to place a soft kiss on his boyfriend's lips.

Harry saw Ron laugh uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye. Harry however, was hardly phased. Over the last near decade, he had discovered things were possible that were once just a fantasy, this display of affection was really just another one.

Ernie levitated the box of sweets over his empty bed and toward Anthony Goldstein who stared at the box for a while before plucking a white bean from the box and inspecting it thoroughly before placing it in his mouth tentatively.

The dorm watched in anticipation as Anthony's face remained untelling. He seemed to swallow and he looked around the room. "Under-ripe banana."

Harry rolled his eyes with a smile while Anthony tossed the box toward Terry Boot who was reading a book on his bed, the last against the east wall.

"I'm not a child," said Terry without looking up from whatever he was reading.

"Oh put that stick out your arse," Ernie yelled.

"You sound like Hermione," Ron chuckled.

"Whatever," Terry flicked his wand and absentmindedly sent the box across the wand and onto Malfoy's emerald sheets.

"Hey! No, he needs to do a truth or dare!" Neville complained.

"Fine, dare," Terry shook his head.

"I got an idea," said Harry. "How about you put that book down and join in?"

Ron smiled at his best friend proudly. Terry looked Harry dead in the eye, and then swept his gaze across all the boys in the room.

"You guys are lame, I just hope you know that," said Terry, placing his book on his bed stand.

Ron laughed. "Harry, grab the box, it's your turn."

Harry picked his wand up from his bed stand and summoned the box from the Slytherin's empty bed.

"I'm glad we've only got Debbie Downer tonight," Justin said as Harry peered into the box to attempt to suss out the least risky bean.

"Where is Malfoy anyway?" Anthony asked nobody in particular.

"Hospital wing," Harry looked up at him. "He's uh, got a stomach bug."

"Well, I'd rather not catch something nasty like that this close to Christmas, especially from Malfoy," Ron leaned back on his pillows.

Harry bit his lip to prevent himself from saying something he'd regret. He'd only a couple of hours ago gotten back on Ron's good side and he didn't want to go ruining it by defending Malfoy.

Harry stole a glance at Malfoy's bed as he thought about the attackers who put him in the Hospital wing.

"I just want to ask, what is up with Malfoy this year?" Ernie sat up off his boyfriend, fiddling with his wand.

"Yeah, Harry," Anthony peered across the room. "You probably know him the most, having to hang around him all the time."

Harry saw Ron stare daggers at the Ravenclaw across the room at the mention of Harry and Malfoy getting along.

"He hasn't got mummy and daddy to back him up," Ron snapped. "He's gone soft, trying to get Harry to protect him before decides to leave him in the dirt."

"I can take care of myself you know," Harry looked at his friend, a little hurt.

"I know m'sorry," Ron apologised. "Just, he can't be trusted."

Harry thought on this for a moment and realised that Ron was right. He popped a bean into his mouth.

"Lemon." 


End file.
